my writer

it is only because of you
my love, that i begin at last
to understand what it truly
means to be a writer

beyond the obvious creativity
the shrouded activity of mind
crafting eternal substance
to clothe ephemeral ideas

beyond the cleverly constructed
characters careening through
indecision and madness and fear
ever endearing themselves to me

beyond the precious peers
who inspire and guide you
and the late night hours spent
tapping away in the dark

beyond all of this and more
is your all too tender heart
sorely abused, breaking again
beneath the callous burden

of the utilitarian indifference
oh so effortlessly wielded by
petty fools who may never know
the unencumbered grace

of your soul

Laya, my beloved writer, at Westminster.

a message

Laya at Castlerigg stone circle outside Keswick, England

a message here
so we would imagine
or merely playing at eternity?

a chance to climb
to mime to speak with the past
and breathe a false druidic air

touching cold stones
snapping swiftly disseminated
photos while leaning against monuments

a message lost
too often misinterpreted
when wrapped in selfish longing

say what you will
but our ancestors were not
messaging you or me or any else besides

and that is rightly so
for my heart bathes these stones
in cadences of wishful aspiration

we see not what is
but what we long to be
and that is what binds us to forever



it could well be said
that i know more of nonsense
from the bearing of my own
gallus clammering heart

than do the pitter patter ponces
who stroll salamander street
of an evening fair and lonely
and desperately clinging to fantasy

then again, it could just be
that my imaginings tend further
in the direction of aching truth
than i give myself credit for

you never know

precious little

precious little follows upon
in what remains of my life
and that so precisely intoned
as well to warrant skepticism
at the very least,
he dismissively stated

but she knowingly
most lovingly

you are so much more than this
so much more than you grant
yourself the willingness to be
having attained that which others
could only dream of,
and she touched his arm

he grunted doubtfully
and dipped his head
at his wrinkled hand

ungenerous time is not kind
and regardless of my achievements
in spite of my longings
it binds me to shadowed ends
i would have nothing of,
and he hid his hand in his lap

with a tear in her eye
she reached out
and pulled his hand to her lips

do not hide yourself from me
nor efface yourself so meanly
for this is what matters,
she said kissing his hand,
and even ruthless time
could never destroy this truth

you are mine and all
and be you so for now
and forever more

Audiobook: Istanbul: Turkish Travel Phrases for English Speakers.

25 June 2019

I am pleased to announce the release on Audible of my first Audiobook. It was a pleasure to return to Turkish–a language I have not had much of a call to use for sometime now–to assist Sarah Retter in the production of Istanbul: Turkish Travel Phrases for English Speakers. The Best 1.000 Phrases to Get Around when Traveling in Istanbul. This is a very useful travel book for English speakers visiting anywhere in Turkey, not just Istanbul, phrases to use while shopping, going out, renting a car, doing business, and so on. It is available on Audible here. Happy travels, all. İyi yolculuklar.