This story features mature content and sexual themes, including explicit language and offensive, politically incorrect terminology. All characters, locations and events in Feksmeker are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Views and opinions expressed by characters do not necessarily reflect those of the author. Feksmeker I believe that the universe … Continue reading Feksmeker

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In the East someplace there's got to be a temple where devotees of the wind spend all the day silent secret as bees, deaf as a man underwater or man-under-train, gasping for breath far from our European capitals and the noise of life, continually resonating through our screens like traffic; stuck and static, occasionally an … Continue reading Temple


Bir buluşma yeridir şimdi hüzünlerimiz. [It is a meeting place now, our sadness.] — Edip Cansever, Meduza ...I wake up. I make coffee and look from my apartment at Bosporus. I've been training my eyes to see across continents, and my small words to hold much inside. For when Time comes empty-handed and people are little … Continue reading Istanbul

Κοιτάζει ανατολικά η θάλασσα

Αύγουστος ’13 Ποια εξουσία σαν Ποίηση ασκείς πάνω μου θηρίο πολυμήχανο ο έρωτάς σου ίδιο κινέζικο μυθιστόρημα κορμί μαγνητοφωνημένο ουρλιάζει στο παράθυρο του ονείρου μου να βγω. * Και βγαίνω. Ντυμένος την Παράδεισο για να σε δω με βήμα ηλεκτροφόρο και πέλμα τοξωτό                         … Continue reading Κοιτάζει ανατολικά η θάλασσα

Πέμπτο γράμμα

Να ντύνονται οι νύχτες τη μορφή σου, κι εσύ να μην το ξέρεις. Ν’ απλώνει ο ουρανός το σχήμα σου να πάρει, και να μη φτάνει. Κι εγώ πώς να στο πω. Όλο σκοτάδια να υφαίνω, ρούχο να πλέξω το κορμί σου, κι όλο γυμνό το βράδυ να με βρίσκει. Δεν το ‘ξερες; Εδώ βαφτίζει … Continue reading Πέμπτο γράμμα


the days aren’t days aren’t todays wrought smiles opening up like easter intestines under the sun and the sun isn’t a sun isn’t your son isn’t the sum of light a planetary body frantic revolving or an aviary folding inside all our words that flew- the eyes aren’t eyes aren’t I’s aren’t you and I … Continue reading flight

the Hero

The hero makes a ‘thrilling escape from death’ and the monster is slain. — Christopher Booker, The Seven Basic Plots Fast-blood red-sharp morning explodes in my ears. Benched heat. Or is it that monster your love. Tasting my teeth, there’s a flavour of sun blocked apartments & sorrow balconies, and the line you handed me last night … Continue reading the Hero


Over time, a lover of the night hours I became. A tree that grew in a room. The Saints of Wear visited and solitude stroke like fever. Torchbearer of fear but of desire too, the moon circled, covered, dressed the stained world. The blast furnace city ignited. My blood ignited too. Then came you, sent by the … Continue reading Lament