© 2019 All rights reserved. Iceberg Tales.

November 6, 2019

today is no different to yesterday

because the shaking in his veins hasn't subsided yet,

because his trousers still crumple (no matter how they are hung),

because he still has a hair for every

thinning, grey year he stays alive.

he wonders if cafes mock him

for always lea...

August 14, 2019

When Smyrna fell, we rose from the chairs

our grandfather made and grew unsure

what to call ourselves. We—who’d always

broken bread with them and stuttered

strange Turkish vowels—

found ourselves nervous at the picture

window watching their horses and soldiers

leaping at the...

June 26, 2019

They are never so beautiful as now:

lustrous with light and water,

a succession of small startles

shining in the dun matt sand.

Blown bubbles wander up

from the waveline, skate on waterfilm

which holds the piebald sky,

the adolescent April sun.

I walk on blue-white heavens.

I b...

May 26, 2019

Into your loneliness

we place our voices,

hoping our words

might comfort your wounded heart.

We do not mean

to remind you

of all you have lost

by extolling the manifold virtues

of your husband

now gone, but we are foolish

in the face of grief,

never knowing whether

to share our ow...

May 12, 2019

She Rinsed

the breakfast dishes

as her children were leaving,

they left two moist goodbye-kisses

on her cheek. She plunged her hands into hot water,

awakening a thousand little scars. Now, the bed sheets were clean.

She was surrounded by all types of water, not blue skin...

May 6, 2019

What have those watery globes

in industrial goggles seen?

Frozen lakes, dance halls, unexpected

Goodbyes, I’m sure.

Locked vaults of anaesthetic and no

combination. You’ve trapped me in those unbroken


I know you want to forget,

but every mispronunciation

reminds me of wh...

Bed’s creaking.

He’s up.

Why are you still up?

He’s down.


Why do you feel so down?


Don’t you have work in the morning?


Clink clink.

Guts pour down.                                       TV blares....

April 9, 2019

For the longest evening, we have nothing.

The lorry is delayed, and we squat in an

unfurnished box, pine-smelling and so clean

it hurts the eyes to look. We are waiting

to hear the growl of our possessions rolling

into the gravel drive, but it’s silent here

and there’s nothi...

March 31, 2019

I’m on a train between two towns

Towards a town that once was mine

I knew of its anatomy

Familiar to its queer design

Your veins: the paths I walked along

The passages I only know

And sauntering through streets beyond

The sunset’s reddish golden glow

Or stopping in a coffee sh...

March 24, 2019

1st January

I am everything

and yet,

I was nothing...


I am streak within stillness

and scent within storm,

with stature of Saturn--

I am twelve feet tall.


I am breeze of heat's wave

that saves sorrow's shoes;

once a bruise of heart's blames

within old twisted truths.


I am...

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