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reflections on belonging

a palmers chronicle right bw

Graphic Novels

Photo by Gintarė Gustainytė
and finally there’d be
a merging of our souls, we’d live long happy lives,
run around in one small circle, die amicably, holding
paws, having treated ourselves to the same ratpoisonoflife.

Photo by M. Penkutė
It took so long for me to hear
the hum of blood under my skin:
I understood the words of that song.

I like ambivalent weather best –
neither sun, nor rain, nor cold, nor heat.
Just these clouds. Gray cumuli.
And one cup of coffee in the morning.

Photo by Vladas Braziūnas
then the knight, steed, dragon, peaks and moon
all shouted – harum harum –
and began to dance

Photo by Gediminas Sadauskas
i’m moving in directions unknown. not all the tracts in these latitudes are passable. check-points, shakedowns, bribes. usually i just play dumb. now the border guards are patting down Dante.

you’re not reading a poem, it’s just how
I journalistically transmit that which
the gentle turbines of the dryer
churn out from my memory

Photo by Arnoldas Barysas. From "Literatūra ir menas" archives.
Unblock the frothing sun,
                      in the half-empty roiling city,
and drink from your hands –
                      this stone city turns eternal here.

Photo from personal archives
Haiga is a form of expression, originating from 17th c. Japan.
It is a subtle synthesis of two art forms, where a picture is connected to poetry.

Photo by Benediktas Januševičius
We were almost the same as several older generations
who conspired in shacks trying to change the world.
Thank God we didn’t crave power, only to be remembered.

My last meal should be a poor man’s breakfast-
a slice of Lithuanian black bread
a hard boiled egg and a piece of
fat and just slightly salty Baltic herring

I transformed myself in her freezing rivers—
Lietuva burst a floret, yare devil, and a pixy.



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