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reflections on belonging

a palmers chronicle right bw

Graphic Novels

probably I’m unindictable,
looking at you, rising Sun,
rising over Ukmergė

Photo by Milda Kiaušaitė
well, OK then, now tell me honestly:
in that poem,
am I beautiful?

Photo by Joakim Eskildsen
Who will mourn this tree with me?
Who will eulogize this tree?
Who will embrace its thick knotted trunk,
As it ultimately crashes down onto the hard asphalt?

Photo by Orinta Gerikaitė
For all things have turned into words, tasteless, scentless,
Formless, sensationless, meaningless, even wingless.
Staying silent is all that is left then,
Or writing verses about writing poetry. As
A real poet ought to.

Photo by Dainius Dirgėla
Give me back my hands. Give me back the fields and how they tremble.
Skylark, skylark, the wind is with you. Sleep. And sails. And light.

Photo from personal archives
it’s not hard to detect
a counterfeit person

there’s nothing to see
when you hold him against the light

Photo by Aistė Pilkauskaitė
she poured her beer on my head
when i tried to kiss the cross
above her low-cut dress –
i just wanted to touch my lips to
the open wound of christ on her

Photo by Daiva Vaitkevičienė
walking is my speech

walking is my expression of love
walking – I fall in love and read
this city and
know it – not for long. I’m silent.

Photo by Andrej Vasilenko
But to domesticate a vagabond dog
                           that has broken its pronoun leash –
Me.

Photo by Antanas Untydi
Everything is heading towards resolution,
Most probably it will be atomic.
And there will be neither City,
Nor World,
Just a little baby tooth
In a tin box

And the river, its fair banks defining,
connecting, place and time, places and times.
Me, here, now, I get the little-hairs-rising-feeling
about a life I haven’t lived, but might.

Poems from the poetry book "Be-hooved", University of Alaska Press, 2019

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