The First Rule of Sinhalese Architecture
Never build three doors
in a straight line
A devil might rush
through them
deep into your house
into your life
_____________________
Michael Ondaatje
The Distance of a Shout
Knopf 2026
daydreaming w/ Bob Arnold
The First Rule of Sinhalese Architecture
Never build three doors
in a straight line
A devil might rush
through them
deep into your house
into your life
_____________________
Michael Ondaatje
The Distance of a Shout
Knopf 2026
Various Artists Ethiopiques, Vol. 10: Tezeta - Ethiopian Blues & Ballads 1 Eyètègnu Nèqu - Frew Haylou 0:00 2 Hédètch Alu - Muluqen Mellesse 4:15 3 Tèrèdtchéwalèhu - Alemayehu Eshete / Amha Eshete 9:30 4 Heywèté - Tèsfa Maryam Kidané 15:07 5 Tezeta - Sèyfu Yohannès 20:23 6 Altèlèyèshegnem - Alemayehu Eshete / Amha Eshete 25:46 7 Gubèlyé - Traditional - Mulatu Astatke 30:42 8 Tezeta, Mahmoud Ahmed / Traditional Mahmoud Ahmed 35:25 9 Man Yehon Telleq Sèw - Alemayehu Eshete / Amha Eshete 47:53 10 Tezeta - Traditional - Tèsfa Maryam Kidané 54:38 11 Tezeta - Menelik Wèsnatchèw 1:00:50 12 Tezeta Slow - Kassa, Gétatchèw 1:05:25 13 Tezeta Fast - Kassa, Gétatchèw 1:10:36
Thick Consistency
i lost the mountains behind me the seas on my horizon
the animals i slept and woke with
it was as if the main river flowing out of me stopped
i lived as if nothing happened. with a joyous spirit that passed
through the world
i laughed for the very last time
green grass touched my feet. a sky full of white clouds
walked over me. between the two i slept
all this is now a sorrowful sentence in a romani song
____________________
Birhan Keskin
Earthly Conditions
World Poetry 2025
El poema de lo reverso
In which everything goes backwards
in time and motion
Palm trees shriek back into the ground
Mangos become seeds
and reappear in the eyes of Indian
women
The years go back
cement becomes wood
Panama hats are seen upon skeletons
walking the plazas
Of once again wooden benches
The past starts to happen again
I see Columbus's three boats
going backwards on the sea
Getting smaller
Crossing the Atlantic back to the
ports of Spain Cadiz Dos Palos Huelva
Where the sailors disembark
and do back to their towns
To their homes
They become adolescents again
become children infants
they re-enter the wombs of their mothers
till they become glances
Clutching a pound of bread
through a busy plaza
that becomes the taste
of the sound of church bells
in reverberation.
_______________________________
Victor Hernandez Cruz
This Room
The room I entered was a dream of this room.
Surely all those feet on the sofa were mine.
The oval portrait
of a dog was me at an early age.
Something shimmers, something is hushed up.
We had macaroni for lunch every day
except Sunday, when a small quail was induced
to be served to us. Why do I tell you about these things?
You are not even here.
_____________________________
John Ashbery
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,”
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—
Never afraid are we!”
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam,—
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:
’Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folk thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:—
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
My friend Arvind shared this poem a few days ago
from India, both of us in the old shoe.
The poem is in the public domain.