Discovery of Faith

DISCLAIMER: Most poems that I post are meant to be performance pieces; that is, if you read them aloud they're probably going to be even deadlier cool. Thanks for reading everyone, and feel free to share!

What a scene to walk in on;
she slides the sheets up over her quivering lips
to cover that tell-tale gap between her teeth.
She's been lying with what NASA calls
Entry.Descent.Landing. to rove the
red planet that is her stain on the satin
rocks of the moon. She'll thank her
lucky stars that it was me, transplant expat,
not a hooded ninja of religion, to lay eyes.

Sequestered Expat Life in Suburbia

Thought I might get to some stargazing in the absence of being able to sleep last weekend.  Conveniently, last weekend was the peak timing to witness the Perseids meteor shower as Earth passed through a band of particularly dense comets in the ALL of space.   Only after about 3 AM did I realize that I live in Istanbul.  Fat chance, even on the dustiest outskirts of town!  I shouldn't fool you, I never grew up with firm roots in the land.  But I have often felt an intrinsic tie between my own self and the world around me.  I suppose because so much of my formative years was spent in a non-urban setting, I now feel a distinct longing for country landscapes.  Since my trip to Cappadocia in February, I've been sequestered to the suburban life

The Good, the Bad, and the Ungroomed

Wandering around my little block of juggernaut apartment buildings, I began noticing that nearly all the men in the area of  Başakşehir have grown themselves nice little mustaches.  In Turkey, it's not out of the ordinary to see a man walking around with the weight of the world on his upper lip.

Alone with the Murder

Like a sailor hauling men overboard

on decks, he lowers the latch

on the door of his 8 x 24

cargo container for the final

shut-in. Deserting

her to that rich valley between his prison cell

walls. Alone

with the murder, the dog surveys

the herculean climb to the bottom of his

potential.  Heave,

the sickness ailing him is more than

merely viral, it’s virtual; worse than the rhythmic pace of

time.