By Sevda Akyuz
almost but not quite
sounds like an apt
description of all things I
went through
under and above
in and out
up and down
but mostly down
mossy stone
by the bosphorus
unable to stick
rolls into the ripples of
ferry foam
slippery slope paved by
past predilections
along sariyer sunsets
brooded over alone
long gone
in consistent self-contradiction
à la whitman
me myself and I
against the whole wide world
hurray for individualism, yo!
red herrings
ever recurrent and reeking
sleepless as
sleep of reason produces monsters
bats and owls and falcons
with a lynx lying alert in the corner
let them lie
mysterious and capricious
unravel night terrors
of petrified sleep
in the darkest hour
crimson neon blinks
vexed on the night stand
post hoc ergo propter hoc
monstrous self-indictment
trying to rear its ugly head
from under the bed
slouching towards hagia sophia
that terrible beauty of byzantion
street noises dim
even in the back alleys of istanbul
in the nearing dawn
the last drunkards are gone
taking their self-importance
and smell of aniseed home