my grandma is telling me of norutyun/news
she’s like there is a cult teenagers are joining and killin themseves they worship the devil and dress in black and i was iike, what is this cults name
"their name is emo, they are very dangerous"
i feel like there is a lot of unnecessary ugliness on here that branches out in a few ways
one being that people enjoy elevating themselves above others in a way that is not healthy for anyone and the others for some reason go along with it???, two being cliquey behavior lol, three being general greedy energy-sucking behavior of people who grab onto everything ME, ME, ME, and four five etc, etc
You may think I write to move you
but I write to move myself from
one place to another. The words that are missing
from this poem are somewhere else. The salt that is missing
from the borsch is somewhere else. The mountains
that are missing from Armenia are somewhere else.
I am a creator of nothing spectacular
with the power of invisibility.
I am a homemaker
at my writing desk.
For her, poetry was
a final cry into the void,
but she was not Armenian.
She did not have one hundred
years to tell her cries go
I prefer to fabricate
bridges from words, stroll out
to the center of my creation
and look down. Under me, tiny men
are smoking and playing backgammon
in my house. There is a pomegranate
on my nightstand and the window is open.
Charents is taunting me across time,
"The bridge you stand on is not real; it is
just like you, made from nothing
but a void and English”