NO New Nuclear Weapons... NO New Nuclear Targets... NO New Pretexts For Nuclear War... NO Nuclear Testing...
NO Star Wars... NO Weapons In Space...
NO All Types Of Weapons, War & War Culture...
We have only one WORLD yet! If we destroy it, where else will we go?
The Morning Light, Seasons, Filigree of a Feeling,
With Days Running Down My Chin,
Things are Touching, Intimation of Grace,
Diamond Factory, Anatomy, Is it? and Saint's Halo

Selected Poems by Ugur AKINCI

The Morning Light

You're not late at all
If the world has not arrived yet.

May be you start at 50
Shine by 80
So at 30
They cut you down fresh.

Between a random note and a full samba
What is it that stands?
Is it Monday? Tuesday? Friday?
Is it a law a rule a regulation?
What stands in the way?

Fame is greatness on loan
Greatness is peace on tap.
Let's drink to that.

What's sad is not what's now
But what has passed away
And what we still remember
As a future event.

Some jokes are lonely
Like a sweater on sale
The price tag still attached.

Is this love or Love-O-Rama?

Are you lost and gone
Or are you clicking pictures
And organizing receipts?

May be you're not deaf at all
I don't think so
This silence is the world rushing in
We're all waiting.

This very long night
Is what holds together the morning.


* * *


Who'll remember a hundred years from today
the NASDAQ composite?
Or that we were born
And never lowered the toilet seat?

Summer's silly and fast
June slept around with the wrong guys.
A high school friend died of a heart attack at forty nine.
I've received a lot of e-mails on home refinancing.

Fall had brown horsepower
September chill got too deep too fast
An easy walk in the park
Sounds better in a song
Suddenly it was October
The bottom fell out.

Was it a life?
Or just a year?

Does a massive realization
require a massive effort?

The dirty grout around the hours
Helps define the tiles of brighter days.
But can this add up to anything unless it's certified?

Nothing gets real
Before we start to pay.

* * * * *

Filigree of A Feeling

Filigree of a feeling lighter than nothing
The ages brown on the edges
Without a warning.

Scratch my name with a lock not a key
What gels is a commercial
What walks on is a mystery.

I'm my older self minus time
I passed from these towns upside down.

The world looks at me sideways
Sometimes from milk cartons
Sometimes from the Milky Way.

I don't have wigs and false mustaches
That's why I dig rock'n roll
In all churches.

Something's cutting through me
Paul Desmond breathing Take Five
A ballistic missile launches.

This complex nothing
People bouncing like steel balls in a pinball machine
Figs and mangoes are what we say
But bread and cheese what we take.

I jolt I lurch I shake on crutches
But never mind
Like a bee crazy for honey
We all buzz till we find.

Get out with a feeling on a leash 
A cup of tea is Russian
Until vodka arrives.

Handle the time carefully
Prop it up with pillows
But don't measure for size
We don't sell calculus.

Filigree of a feeling perhaps nothing
Ear on heart
Vapor thin.

A gazelle and a lion make love
When the camera is off.
As soon as the sun goes down
Africa jumps north.

But that's not a fact
Nothing is.
Just the filigree of a feeling
Lighter than nothing.

* * *

With Days Running Down My Chin

A poet knows how to die
At every pit stop.

Every time you say goodbye
Tie your shoes
And call a taxi for the airport,
Every time love lingers
As sharp as an insult,
Something precious
Whispers your name.

Every end is a beginning
A marigold a song a job a kiss
A blue breeze with gulls dipping wings
I bite it all
Juices running down my chin.

A man is a bag of bile and bones
Yes, true
And he's also a smoke
Looking for a fire.

* * *

Things are Touching

My elbow is touching your hair
Something simple
And very ancient
Like the waves on the rocks
Sunday and the sun
The road hugs the mountain
Hopes are blushing at forty seven.

Things are touching
Back to back
A crowd in a game
A cork in a bottle
Jelly in a jar
They touch
The hands of time.

Through the padlocks on my eyes
I'm peeping at the stars.

Intimation of Grace

grace is nuts
it's really nothing but the jackpot hitting a slob.
the lord of the salt and the chocolate cake
long-stemmed roses and vicious vipers
you're the fat guy in every sit-com.

he is keying up your items at the checkout lane
his name is Moses and we know he's not the Prophet
like this guy Buddha pumping gas at the gas station
or Jesus the fastest forward soccer's ever seen
you think something's going on there but really what?

deities come and go while we doze off at the wheel
or scratch our nose first thing in the morning
they're either watching high up from heaven
or trying to get the hell out of our way.

somebody's got enlightened last night
while mopping the floor at Giant
either the mop,
the floor
or Homer
working at six fifty an hour
we're almost sure
but can't say what.

* * *


Diamond Factory

Frail gold chain circling the fragile ankle
Of a thin woman at fifty six
Hair dyed red to perfection and pride
She's aglow drinking coffee at McDonald's
One part hope, two parts desire.

Next to her perched on top of a stool
A man of substance in bio and weight
Not a day younger than sixty five
Short sleeved in December -- mind you
Picking lint off her coat with clumsy fingers
While slurping a chocolate shake with gusto
His alibi for lust.

Forces twitch for climax
But we choose peace over victory.

Acrobats would tear limb to limb
If it wasn't for the balance
That froze the gravity.

A peach would explode in a cloud of bees
But for the paste of God
That glues an anger still.

The man and the lady next to him
Would've gone off the edge some time ago
But for the music they hear
Even at a McDonald's.

The diamonds are in details
The details are in diamonds.

The world honks beeps and bleeps
Venom cranks up a schedule
With e-mails, organizers and thin blood.
There should've been five wars by now
But for the gold chains around fragile ankles.

Don't tip off your hand
If it's not on fire.

* * * * *


Anatomy of Memory

Underneath the smile
The muscles that pull
Cartilage that bends
Bones that glow
The nerve triggers
Traffic jam at brain stem
Swings around a fragrance
Memory dives
A summer's night under Saturn
Crickets ring
A girl by the pool
Of her own halo
Purple wheat fields
Orange heartbeat
World is free
July is home
Time is love
She leans forward
And wants to know
"What you're smiling at?"

Nitrogen shivers
Grabs a phosphate
They hitch a ride
Amino protein rushing a vein
Hitting a signal
Through the same nerve
Jumps over cortex
Through the bones that glow
Cartilage that bends
Muscles that pull
To the surface
All the way up
As you blaze down the highway
With the night on your face
And the same woman
Perhaps a wife
Perhaps not
Looks at you
And wants to know:
"What you're smiling at?"

* * * * *


Is it?

It may be all about loneliness
But we can't leave it at that
Hunger is simple without a recipe
But chefs, waiters, tables they all must exist.

It may be all about love
But what's a little hurting between friends?
Love must bite to live
Promises, late nights, phone calls, regrets.

It may be all about nothing
People come and go quicker than news
But meaning needs something to reflect
Videos, cards, birthdays
Baby showers and bouncing checks.

It may be all about envy
Others are perfect in what we don't know
A dog must run for others to lose
Odds are against God or peace.

It may be all about everything
A dream that's charged to your account
The minute you wake up.
But each birth must scream to breathe
Hold my hand and say it's not late.

Every shoulder moves with a reason
That it cannot lift.

* * *

Saint's Halo

The climber dangles like a fly from the cliff
At ten thousand feet there's no one to call
Fear is dark honey
Thick, sweet and slow
Nowhere to turn but within
Will someone let it go?

Texas nights simmer under the moon
El Paso crackles like an oven stuck on high
You pull the sheet and there it is:
A hairy scorpion just your size
Hurting to sink his quivering love
As deep into your life as it'll go
And that's your blood refusing to flow.

When danger lands a kiss
On your smashed head tenderly
The angels tear into a rap
God on the lead guitar

Not good deeds
Is a saint's halo.

E-mail: ugurakinci@aol.com

© Selected poems by Ugur Akinci, 2003.

This issue is dedicated to the Peace Process of SRI LANKA & prominent Turkish author Yasar KEMAL

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