breaking through night clouds
yellow lightning soundlessly
brings plump raindrops
a bowl of cherries
chilled, still wet from the rinse
smiling in my hands
summer's soft ripeness
in the flowing fields and woods
a bounding doe's tail
my ankles swollen
leaning against the cold wall
less fond of this heat
nearly cold water
washes the day's weight away
a fresh cotton robe
afternoon candles
glowing gently in the dark
of a summer storm
fresh sheets
after the chill
of a summer night
[Waiting for my flight at Pearson...]
dandelion fluff
perched on the wind's edge, light-footed
with less light luggage
and then for about
one month each day snoring I'll
sleep in a sunbeam
frothy thin things
I can't tell or hold for long
must at least be seen
[Photography: Ahu Gungor]
in the night garden
we sing to young cats of love
and drunken flowers
her name dropped by chance
at the table of strangers
just as we enter
toothbrush, purse, pillow
all flayed to show emptiness
under a cold moon
our table loud
one more bite for stray cats
empty sunlit plate
stirless families
beneath beds of weeds
and pine needles
moon branches teach
the ways to be at night
weightless and swaying
cats with moonlit eyes
are learning the songs that keep
breaking our hearts
bits of her
in the flight of us girls' hearts
white butterfly
in grief
stretched and bleached, the heart
all new
morning spices
a slim web near the moon's husk
earnest spider
day after hot day
opening my book
to the same page
sweating with breakfast
lunch and dinner, sweating
with sitting and breathing
August already
yet the buzz of cicadas
comes only from the TV
even the crickets
sound half-fainted in this heat
dark blossoms opening
my fan from Kyoto
bluer than the blue night
swaying to our songs
the lone cricket
on the magnolia keeps
time with my witchery
with a magic chalk
opening a nook, saying
now, beauty
a night too tender
balmy and sweet, textbook for
loving or dying
serenely
the calico cat melts
into the dark night
what if mosquitoes
were just hungry fairies?
still I'd kill them good
the matchless pleasure
of suddenly slapping dead
a fucking mosquito
cool breeze this morning
on a dumpster painted with daisies
a cat's acrobatics
cats in weird poses
are hard to draw; too much
catness going on
this fool fed by
near-fables and morning coffee
is kinda happy
[Driving south to the sea...]
old-fashioned road trip
car troubles and a bored child
near sun-scorched grass
in the thick heat
found wayside on southbound trips
exquisite nowhere
made it to the sea
welcomed by the jasmine
the palm and the grey cat
[A routine of domestic chaos...]
once alone at home
I'll get to cherish again
my dear family
clamorous sunrise
with doves, hills and sea mist all
purring in yellow
[Cats, for some reason, lots of cats...]
in the night garden
a glass for all and a kiss
from the blue-plumed air
[The bar scene in Bodrum, for me the dearest resort town despite...]
idiots in waves
screaming into the vast sky
of summer stars
the night's warm breath
on the silver branches
of an ancient olive
tall and serene
still in the heat's slow retreat
a moonlit olive
the silver olive
serenely herself come
day or cold moonlight
far hills drift away
on the sea, their cord cut off
by the August moon
on the garden stones
cicadas faint, rehearsing
their sun-soaked demise
[On Bruno Gonzalez, spectacular aikido practitioner, photographed as a whirling dervish...]
turning inside out
the loud side of the sun
exquisite nowhere
slipping in and out
of sleep under the full moon
the night grows unreal
a while after sunrise
the tips of palm leaves idly
reach for a breeze
the detached wings and
torso of a dragonfly
blackened by the ants
["The corporeal world exists as the common denominator of the incorporeal worlds of its inhabitants."-- W. Stevens, The Necessary Angel]
in the inner world
popping by in a name, or
a white butterfly
in the quiet shards
of light on the floor, stirring
a beautiful ghost...
--London, Istanbul & Bodrum, Summer 2021
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[Photography and artwork by Duru Gungor, unless indicated otherwise]