a cafe in HongKong

a cold beer, a long slender glass

the name remains

I wonder if it is still there.


The Crumbs

in the midtown Manhattan


the sign will be gone soon

the memories will be washed out with it.



a music cafe on the ground floor

I heard Lenard Cohen’s voice for the first time there

Bonnie and Clyde poster on the wall

long gone, that time of my life.




memory works in funny way,

and I want to look at



My heart hardens sometimes…

my tightly sewn neck

didn’t allow turning my head

that was the moment

my mind gave in

and I sat there,



from time to time

my memory flew back to that parking lot

that morning

I was devastated

losing my power in control

which enabled me holding myself together for several months against that battle.


life is totally personal,

totally alone; we can expereince only ourselves

but sometimes,

the dread of the aloneness I felt that morning

sneaks into my body

and hardens my heart.


I knew that I was the one

didn’t ask anything to anyone

dying must be easier than confessing my weakness,

my sadness,

for me at that time,

maybe for me now too.


the old habits are hard to get rid of

I put on those without noticing,

even with all those self-development shits I’ve done,

I reach to that thick heavy coat in haste,

smelling like sorrow, giving more chills than warmth,

and bury my head deep under the worn familiar threads; shivering…


My moon




don’t want to ride this time



read some lines I wrote before the summer

you made my life sparkle in the mud.



not taking anything from anyone

just shine, that is okay


thanks for telling me that.


what I have pursued in my life might not be the right one for me

maybe I am losing the world and I am losing the people

maybe I am losing the valuable things that I am supposed to keep

maybe I released my grip too hastily to reach for nothing; the unworthy

but this is me; sad and stupid me. I couldn’t dissolve me into the timid water, called “supposed to”.


the moon every night different; ever changing but never evolving.

close or far,

you are there

gazing at my presence

with your calm luminance; in the dark.


A day


loved Kusadasi,

met J’s dad by chance, really by chance?

suddenly people are too close,

need some breathing room.



does it matter?

hopes for hope

people forget

the wonderful stupidity that makes people alive.



like the moon

only full for a moment




you still there?

take me home

put me to sleep

the ultimate surrender

on your lap.


the warmth…

to my journey into the night,

curling up,

dessicating my existence

like those petals on your bookshelf.


The birds ate my crumbs


my dog snores nowadays.

he is right behind my chair sleeping; I can’t move.


the moon was beautiful last night.

I wonder if I ever snore.


I want some sweets.

still sitting.

Hansel and Gretel

the birds ate my crumbs.

I lost the thread.


the oven door is broken

it rained all day.


I changed my scent.

the disguised animal instinct; with fragrance.


did I fly?

I drove my son to Buffalo Wild Wings.



up to the pink clouds

look at me, look at me.


the soaked words

I love them too much.


soon the season of boots

up to ankles, up to knees, up to nose


the swarm of bees

honey is too sweet not to be stolen


nobody buys

even devil isn’t interested in any more.


the world, the days, the spoon

we should eat somehow


the sun down, no moon tonight.

sweet dreams that can never be taken.


what are you saying?

don’t put the psycho-chopsticks into the sacred.


deep into the night.

the bed, the warmth, the memory.


the windows that poured the light in.

I lost the world in that space.


get back to my Ashley.

I’ll write again and again until she truly dies.


those things grab my heart.

I treasure them.


driving in the fog

to the bottomless mumbles.


surely it will come.

will it?


<Septmeber 5th, 2017>



Fading away

My eyesight is getting bad fast.

One eye is near-sighted and the other is far-sighted. So the visions of my eyes are moving in the opposite directions. It is inconvenient for me in the everyday life. Still, I can drive and read without the glasses. But it gets blurrier and blurrier. I feel a certain kind of stuffiness from my mashed up views that my eyes provide.

At times, I want to see the details of something or someone. But I just accept the views that my eyes allow and contain them inside me as best as I can. I used to feel a keen pang of the loss. Not the materialistic loss but the loss of the small things. The details of certain moments. A piece of mystic puzzles in my life. A brief smile. A flickering moment when the two sets of eyes met. The things scattered that couldn’t be recovered.

But as my vision is getting worse, I am starting to let go of the things; the things done but slipped in my mind; the things undone but clung to my heart. I am getting old.

The cyclamen flowers on my desk bloom, fade, and wither. I cut the flower stems that lost their hue and hung low. I am fading. And the things I want to hold in my heart also fade away.

Too far or too near. I can’t see both.

I miss the things that I don’t remember

“I have a grand memory of forgetting.”
– Robert Louis Stevenson –

On my visit to my friend’s office who moved overseas, I found one of my favorite photographs of the Adriatic sea on the wall that I had taken and printed on the plexiglass for her before. I forgot about it. Totally forgot.

I forgot many things. I miss those things that start to disappear from my brain. I want to run and catch them and put them in the deep drawer of my memory cabinet, labeled “shouldn’t forget”, but the things are fleeting at the speed I can’t keep up. The only thing I do is that I really miss them without knowing what I have lost. Really really miss them…