Alec Ekmekji: Untitled

Cool,
the moon I know knowingly glows
beneath my bare soles
as I gently step
step gently,
try to step gently
among craters.

But ancient pebbles
perforate the skin
and create craters
anew
that creep into the souls
of me and the moon and I wonder: why be a
fool?

Copyright Alec Ekmekji. This poem has appeared in Birthmark: A bilingual anthology of Armenian-American poetry, 1999.

Alec Ekmekji: Negotiation

Let's write together
No let's ride together.
Let's lie together
No let's fly together.
Let's live together
No let's leave together.
Let's love together
Yes, in any weather.



Copyright Alec Ekmekji. This poem has appeared in Birthmark: A bilingual anthology of Armenian-American poetry, 1999.

Alec Ekmekji: Her Bell of Glass

And to hear silence
she closes all her eyes,
she lies on bare grass
beneath a glass bell
in a field hushed by
winter's frozen light;
but a song gathers
at the tips of her eyes
to rhythms of dew
blooming into ice,
and through the sun's rays
on her bell of glass
she hears the tempest
gathering in the lungs
of the glass blower
sleeping in Murano.

© 1997 Alec Ekmekji

Alec Ekmekji: On Beethoven's Appassionata

When I enter heaven - and I will enter heaven -
It will be a heaven of my own making,
Unlike the heavens of fashionable men,
A heaven where the days extend beyond the years,
And where the minutes swallow the hours,
Where hourglasses, coated with hellish glaze,
Revel in the dance of the years minutes days.

And when I enter hell - yes, I will enter hell -
It will be a hell fashioned by my hands,
Unlike the hells of dispassionate men,
A hell where the minutes devour the days,
And where the hours hover above the years,
Where the heavenly sands, falling, in a daze,
Suspend in mid-air to kiss that hellish glaze.



© 1996 Alec Ekmekji