the whisper

"one needs to lose oneself, in order to find,"
whispered Hayyam to my ear.
one needs to leave,
in order to arrive.

you won't be ever coming back here,
back to now
don't lament your traces
time will erase them all

a rain drop made its way
to the seed underground
what seems dead and silent
can come alive to light

the little proud duck

oh little duck
you're so proud
of your bright colors
of dark green and brown
so proud little duck

oh little duck proud
splashing waters around
as you land on the surface
of the shallow little pond
so small is the pond

oh little proud duck
I've crossed the oceans
flied with albatrosses
swam along with the whales
I've seen the biggest storms on earth
I've been to the eyes of maelstroms

the duck, proud and little
how bright are your colors
under the sunlight
what would have become of them
if you had ever left the pond

cloud

I am the cloud
on which
a dream has landed

writing

I am sooo bored!
is writing an act of erasing,
or is it a disclosure?
why is the angst in all writing?
what do I fear?
what do I long for?

where do I write from?
where does the script come from?

blue box

I am thinking of the difference between night-dreams and day dreams
they should be called with different words
like in Turkish

also of the intrusive confrontation of learning another's night-dream
which is personal, always elusive, unintelligible
a net of unsignifying signs for me
ethics of confessions
I am no priest
nor an analyst
(neither you are)

since there is no two different words in English
for making clear which I mean
I play on their slippage

looking in through my blue box

first breeze of autumn -
turning of the leaves, to soil,
I breathe in the air.

unuseful lists # 2

çalışma zamanı
az konuş, çok iş yap.
araştır
başvur
karar ver
arzula
heyecanlan
üzerine git
vazgeç
geri dön
yeniden başla
yeniden heyecanlan
geri durma
hata yap
yanıl
hatalarını affet
sahip olduğun tek şeyi kucakla

gözle
seyret
öğren
coşkuyla izle
akışa katıl
merak et
izinden git
müziğe uy
seviş

az konuş, çok şey söyle
gözlerini kapa
düşle
düşlerini anımsa
öğrendiklerini unut
benliğini yık
ve sonra
ötekinin imgesinde
yeniden kur
aşk dediğin nedir ki?

zifiri sıcak;
dumanın kıvrımında
asılı düşler

the city I love

you teach me how to hate
everyday, once and again

from the incidental passions
to our mundane obsessions
I love to watch your cosmic feature
transform
everyday, inch by inch

I love to travel to your borders
crossing the limits
traversing your routes
watching you move, watching you groove
everyday, every hour of the day

I love to flow into your crowds
getting dispersed, becoming anonymous
your fragile texture, insecure encounters
I am learning to expect the unexpected
in your restless presence
everyday, anew

I love to miss you when I am here
the nostalgia I accumulate
before leaving
you, the city I love
the city I love to hate

I want something but I do not know what
I want the world and I want it not
I may be a fool or I may be not
off my center am I and the center is not.
there is always something missing
or there may be not,
the eye of maelstrom
of an ambitious skeptic
am I not?

abandoned spaces

those who fill in the blanks
spaces lined with dots,
with the most appropriate
from finite choices.
can you jump a little higher?

those who create blank spaces
marked around with crosses
drawn by white chalk
and a stick nailed on each.
can you reclaim your remainings?

those who move with the current
with no articulation to chart
traceless and immune,
using the void to be.
can you become null?

happy aviv

a late salutation to Nisan,
and its sunloving bahar/aviv/spring flowers
in the name of purple dreams

It was the light
and it was the air
the miraculous

and while I write
it is already there,
writing is always about ending
'cause it is about naming
it came and passes through me
to an infinity

it is the time the melody changes
the bottom of the deep blue ocean
reverberates
it is tangible,
a deluge of divine response
I tune in

soru

erguvanlar açtı mı?
sığırcıklar göçtü mü?
martı yavrusu kendini
çatıdan aşağıya bıraktı mı?

castle made of words

I build a castle
made of words
pieces of sentences
delicately put on one another
it grows high
and high
thick brickets of sounds
with no holes or windows
to look out
from my castle made of words.

I have every reason to be mad
to be angry
to be whatever I am not
to be somehow solid
to be what I need not be

every one of us
will drown in our own loneliness
in our castles made of ice cubes.

argumentum ex silentio

the politics of truth
no, let me correct
the policy of truthfulness
or better phrased:
honesty may come cheap and nasty
yet, not as much as dishonesty
and the conclusion is,
we are bound within our language
this very specific language
hence,
we are also confined in our silence
trapped into this limbo
between le langage and le silence
c’est la possibilité de la parole contre toi

could you please be more specific?
yes, I will be. I hope I would.
language is the limit of our existence
we dwell in our language
and sure,
language comes before our existence
we are born into it.
so, beyond this language is non-existence
we do not have a means to reach this other realm.
it is beyond our reach.
so, it logically follows from all these
that
what cannot be phrased,
that which cannot be put into words
does not exist.

dream cloud

A dream has landed
on a cloud above Taibu
curtaining the sun

emulate the master

Night; and once again,
the while I wait for you, cold wind
turns into rain.

* * *
I want to sleep
Swat the flies
Softly, please

Masaoka Shiki

Maddening distance
a gap, a break, a hole grips
hollows in your eyes

* * *

sweet propensities

and impetuous withdrawals,

You! Beast of the moon

street haiku

blind silence before dawn
a black cat in quietude
crosses the street

* * *

dizzy street lights, rushing posts
the road converge and tear
under the wheel

let's play dead

cursed to sing forever
forever is a big word
cursed to sing until the end
the end of the game
which game?
I don’t know the name
I don’t know the rules
I don’t know the moves
I don’t know if there is ever a winner