Not unlike Provence, this sheen off a sea,
\nwakes jagged furrows ferries gouge into
\na warped metal sheet whose irridescence
\nshowers blind spots among protein floaters,
\nso radiant the glare. Or the graveyard
\nat A\u015fiyan Asri, a real P\u00e8re Lachaise,
\nits luminaires, among them poets
\nI shall never read, mouldering under slabs
\nwhose script needs parsing to comprehend.<\/p>\n
Here at Be\u0161ikta\u0161 my gaze falls upon
\nthe gauzy film this raki, arak, ouzo sloughs off
\nspilling over crisp facets of ice,
\nbillowing veils within a cylinder,
\nin whose cloud can be divined
\nnot diaphanous future but past murk.<\/p>\n
Suppose raki had flowed before pastis,
\nmy Bosphorus before my original Seine,
\nwould I now be aboe to decrypt those tumbling
\ngraven stones,\u00a0recite those poems?<\/p>\n
Would the lives and deaths here <\/p>\n Not unlike Provence, this sheen off a sea, wakes jagged furrows ferries gouge into a warped metal sheet whose irridescence showers blind spots among protein floaters, so radiant the glare. Or the graveyard at A\u015fiyan Asri, a real P\u00e8re Lachaise, its luminaires, among them poets I shall never read, mouldering under slabs whose script needs … <\/p>\n
\nlaid bare before me, their hard facts inscribed
\nas well in minaret, peristyle, dome,
\nbe more transparent? \u00a0But the world of thyme,
\ngarlic, fig, aubergine, I found it first
\nthe way it was, not how it came to be.<\/strong><\/p>\n