ARMENIAN POETRY PROJECT

The valley is calmly receding into the shadows, into the warm glow of respect left by the sun. The scene around me is changing in slow motio...

He stood like a high priest, his ebony hands against the steel; he held the pair of sticks like ceremonial crosses. With gentle beats he ble...

Last night I watched the horizon melt; there were cracks in the sky. I heard the flare of colors, the end of “Sabre Dance”. Today I feel the...

I watched Dvorak go round and round as the needle moved the hypnotic grooves; I read his name more than a hundred times, till he was reborn ...

Click hear for the audio clip South of Monterey read by Lola Koundakjian. With so many things common on my mind – interlaced layers of mem...

Yesterday I picked a few magnolias in half bloom and thought of you, your countenance, and then some. Your art is always on my mind, you kno...