floating gracefully upon
the pluckish tendrilities
the babbling brookiness
the very armenian kanun
the effortless emanation
from marianna's heart and soul
i am there, in hayastan,
in amberd, at saghmosavank,
nowhere near yerevan
in the small villages
just imagining, channeling,
our tarn upon tarn
centuries older than old
sacred spirit vibrating
in our very genes
february 12, 2026
working
grading somethings and
listening, background
youtubing... you know
a few hours of shajarian
then randomly udi boghos
a fasil here or hüzzam
hrant, sayat, and tatyos
uşaklı, the kızzy one
neither tahir or there
and then...
it became poetic
something you sing
that you sing real good
and i just paused
as my soul drifted
in ethereal currents
headed in your
general direction
you texted a very
simple thought
"it's life you know"
i started to type
and backspace and
type and delete
again and once more
then...
i just stopped
just sat there
with nothing
nothing to say
nothing clever
no insight
no whimsy
certainly nothing
deep or profound
nothing at all
to convey
i just sat there
the sound of
one mind
doing nothing
idling, stalled
on the bay of
eerie tranquility
"it's life you know"
i guess i do
maybe the best
poem i ever read
maybe, probably,
no... for sure
this isn't the can
of slimy worms, nightmares,
dreamy dreams
snails, spiders, leeches
fluffy plush cumulus
lovey doveyness
stalking leopards, gazelles,
warlords, liberators
swords and plowshares
and any number of
scary primal
suppressed urges
that i want to open
a blurry of thoughts
while gently adrift in
the independent sway
of shallow emotions
lapping in counterpoint
to the tidal swell of this
the demotive sea
poeming while
vortexing in this
frozen suburban
misplaced tundra
can't help but feel
my inner zhivago
over and over again
in this bleak new age
more bleak and lonely
in this glorious cold
scribbling verses
well...
taping on a keyboard
trying real hard to
write something
profound, impactful
world changing
but no chance
of that today...
this thing
this thing we have
this beautiful thing
this friendship
this deep platonic
connective bond
forged in our
minds and souls
rooted in our
past and future
incarnations
this wonderful thing
can never ever, uh-uh
no way, ever become
you know, carnal
but, hey, i am just
stupid enough to...
okay then, enough
of these sugary
insulin laced
high fructose
'life is good'
corn syrupy
she or they
hell, all of 'em
are graceful swans
the earthly embodiment
of the ethereal...
eh, i will get back to that
but now, time for
a little rage
rage?
yeah... pissed off
upset, disillusioned
tired of the same old
same old, shit that is
and of what same old
do i dare be ragin' bout?
'tis the fucked up 'leaders'
that have us in
stupid wars
land grabs
that manipulate
way too many of us
to hate on others
to support their wars
their addictive lust for
money and power
more power
more money
no limits
ain't never enough
yeah...
and no worries
not a care for
who dies
who's displaced
no matter
what the fuck
anyone says
after a long, tiring, day
this cold winter night
you fell deep aslumber
on the couch cocooned
in my grandma's afghan
by the warming fire
content and comforted
just watching you sleep
watching you sleep
softly plucking
on karibian's oud
melodies known
mostly improvised
soft, sweet, uşşak,
gentle lullabies while
watching you sleep
watching you sleep
i laid the oud aside
for a notebook
replacing mizrap
with caran d'ache
and penned this poem
feeling soothed and just
watching you sleep
i have a muse
so undeserving to have one
so very blessed, so very...
how do i have a muse?
to muse and inspire
she does nothing
but simply be
a wave of her hand
fireflies appear
each one glowing
a poetic theme
as she walks
verses of wild flowers
bloom fragranced
in her wake
each one a dream
as she speaks
butterflies emanate
each flutter a
petite metaphor
a mere glance
a sonorous lament
an uplifting swell
heart and soul
melting and melding
and when she sings
'tis a master class
bübüls listening
for inspiration
i cannot explain
not in ten thousand
suddenly less mediocre
poems and songs
a simple word
in many songs
i've heard it often
maybe i've even
heard you sing it
this word in every
other song maqamed
in my head
knowing it was
meaningful in
some hopelessly
love lorn way
yet...
never bothering
to ask or try
to learn
i have seen the word
set in your face
steely icy hazel bluish
tear dropped almond
flecked kaleidoscopic
with bits of brown
teal and ebony
all set in the wonder
of divine geometry
it is the end of the day
tired and weary
i should be sleeping
but choosing instead
to write this little bit
writing tired and bleary
like driving drunk and dreary
really not a good idea...
what if something
deep and strong
something i would
or should or could
you know, never share
something dormant
in the dank subconscious
basement of my soul
made it's way into this poem
and we both realized
how i really felt about
the 'us' we never discuss
imagine that...
you think you are
because you have two
a cat lady
i think you are too
you glide gracefully
in and about
wherever you
wish to be...
aloof yet dedicated
actively lazily
doing what you
wish to do...
playfully solemn
radiantly quiet
contemplating what you
wish to wish...
wanting to be loved
but not possessed
loving nature
sun drenched
loving life
on the wish
of a wisp...
a blank page
a fresh start
anything is possible
anything we want
that ideal, that person,
we want to be
this year
this very first day
of this new year
it's different
we sense it
we know it
in our very core
no looking back
no surrender
i got this
you got this
we all got this
not just me
not just you
all of us
all of mankind
no matter
our differences
all our hatreds
and biases
that we've clutched
with such passion
most of our lives
'til this very day
it wasn't
until nine
a of the m
that the very first
pristine cynical thought
of this newborn year
bloomed in my head
breaking my old record
of 2 am...
i am encouraged
by my progress
