by Ece Apaydin
You are looking at the day - the garden that lets you pass through itself -
compressed to air
the hanging cubes. lyre stone on their wings. Icarus! this is not
a photo shot. the roof of the bond houses which flew you. whereas I
want to the earth to the western end of a cedar. your familiarity
I want you to a loneliness of an alive grape
I opened the whole shoot that fall into pieces in my body
being blazed with the bronze leaf of the chandelier. a room
floating in the depths of the universe. in the shadow of its name
the coolness of a forest that is put to the sword. the sorrel flow
of the hours crowned with its auburnness. the whips
rejoicing a crazy market pitcher
Remember my asquint stance and all.
ECE APAYDIN
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)
Last updated June 12, 2016