ARMENIAN POETRY PROJECT

You say, look at me , and I say, this is a house , and when you say that bellboys cannot be counted and preserved between the folds ...

I have seen you as fishmongers in an effort to forget. Twelve of them selling thick pearls of meat. All of them are you. Headless...

Too many times, I have watched flesh turn. Familiar things: a daughter cracking mussels against the pier, mollusks aliv...

We begin our lives by dying & waking up again, eyes sensitive to the kind of light that exists in places that aren't heaven. Thi...

I find you swimming, cheeks flushed             like summer squash. Your father’s screams echo against the riverbed as he drags ...

I stand with Grandmother, rinse a dish with warm milk, watch yeast froth. She cups flour in her palms, presses it into her cuts. Claim...

On Tuesdays you spat daisies, and Wednesdays were for Chinese takeout, and the space between the kitchen and the bedroom smells like 7:03...