ARMENIAN POETRY PROJECT

The loquats have ripened, the sea is showing off. If you’ve been here you’ll know that something in the air keeps us more alive than dead, b...

In a remote Anatolian field somewhere that I do not know; upon unmarked graves of the dead, I hope flowers do grow. In the beginning, only s...

An act can be many things at once. We can be deliverers or takers both. Was he saying thank you to the airbags, thank you to the chassis for...

(28 c.e., Rome) Domitius gives her a ring of iron Agrippina fingers it under her robes while slaves weave her hair with flowers place gold o...

Ապրիլ 24, 2026 Աւազանի անունը միայն ինք գիտէր բոլորին համար Զահրատ էր Իր հնարամիտին ուրկէ եկած ըլլալն ալ միայն ինք գիտէր, անունը Կիկօ էր Առ...

Անգլերէն տառերու պաղութեան մէջէն կը լսեմ անոր ձայնը, այն դիցուհիին, որ սիրոյ ալիւր կը մաղէր հարաւիդ ու հիւսիսիդ վրայ։ Թարգմանուած ցաւ մըն է ...

We laughed when you announced that you’d eaten the abandoned bruised pear: one more food rescue by a Depression-era kid. But now I see your ...

Gather to witness cleansing of blood tomatoes and green peppers, ground beef kneaded wholesome head bowed rice grains studding open cavities...

We in the North look South, with disbelief and horror. We can only hope that decency and kindness will eventually return to our neighbour. T...

On a walk past bulldozers and trucks pouring tarmac for the NJ Eisenhower highway my grandmother said to me as we turned into a market with ...

I was the rag that lifted and didn’t catch the edges of things. I was lamplight. In another place, I was shaina maidel . Here, though, I was...

Հագուստներուդ հետ քնացայ Պառկեցայ կուշտ Սեռն սիրով Իսկ դուն աշխարհի հեռաւոր մի անկիւնը Ծնկաչոք կանանց Պատերազմի արուեստը կը սորվեցնէիր Հագու...

I don’t know how to write about schizophrenia So I’ll write about my brother I don’t know how to write about my brother So I’ll write about ...

Good white terrorism. With my signature, this danger. I commend hard nights and weekends. I want to thank the Vice. I want to thank terroris...

  I photographed my grandmother's hands once. Folded as if in prayer. Wrinkled, aged, still beautiful Holding within them the secrets of...

Tweak laws Stratify identity Threaten activists Silence dissent Round up the poets Punish opposition Blame the victims Appropriate their opp...

The trees have taken sides— left bank, right bank, leaning into silences that will outlast us. The road goes toward that salmon-copper slit ...

Sitting in the cafeteria at Costco, I break apart my croissant slowly. In this rare moment I am alone and imagine I am at a cafe where the E...

Above the black serpentine line, the hawks begin to circle and talk of peace. Above the broken backs of mothers, no one can see the angles a...

For the part of me I cannot name. For the willing to remain unbroken like a bridge to across the world. For the almost hal , the openings in...