i am our mountains
in the rush of the streams
watering our valleys
i am the wind blowing cool
off the slopes through
the wheat and viki fields
i am all this and more
seemingly reflected
in you seering eyes
a muted jeweled
fantasy genetically
rooted in timelessness
tempered by the
fragility of what
we have left today
a good day
an octobrish day
in november
leaves still turning
near half fallen
gilded and shining
in clear skied
golden sunshine
a good day
for good music
to further fuel the
already good mood
bagdat yolu-ing
over the river
and through these
midwest woods
a good day to
believe in and
dream good dreams
of a better world
a much better me
and as always
the beautifully
imperfect perfection
that you...
simply are
this song, garini şorer,
this sweetly sad lilting
unforced migration
to take our homes
we were brutally
'migrated' from
in the appropriation
of land, weth, and,
now, song
this swaying dance
this dance of erzerum
hypnotic melody and
the mesmer of
enchanting women
in zephyred sway
dancing daredar...
all this, this song,
reminds me of you
from before we even met
before we were even born
before you distracted
me completely
with your own
graceful sway
november 2026
best read while listening to Էրզրումի Շորոր
a sweetly sad lament
resonating woody and full
a wee bit of rosiny grit
in each bowfull bari-tone
each sound, each note and phrase
in harmonized counterpoint
passionately reflected on
your beautiful armenian face
expressing the collective genetic
drone in our highland souls
echoing off mountains and dzors
in maqamed melodies that
perfectly defines us...
i was gonna write
a smallish slew of haikus
can a slew be two?
a haiku by brush
not this erasable pen
i kanji fathom
basking in the
warmth and glow
of the simple thought
of your soul and spirit
the only you i know
the construct of you
my construct
scaffolded in my
head and heart
may be just the
you i wish you were
or... the only you
you let me see
thus far...
in the shadows
the sun never cast
shadows we rarely
sense or see
we see many
exclaiming
holier than thou
in pious purity
yet living lurky
in the clarity
that's a misty
gray relativity
of a betwixt
that's neither this
nor purely that
and us?
we are moving
in opposite
directions...
on a line or
on a circle?
