Issue
#4

July
2009

2 poems by Peycho Kanev

Yes

hungry helicopters
circle in the sky
killing little pieces of my sleep

my tired brain
wasted a long time ago
on this battle of existence
on this world we call a shithouse

and here is only one cat on the floor
and here is only one bottle of wine
and here I am
alone

come and get me
before they do.

© Peycho Kanev

twisted in my sobriety

the space is crowding
around me
and locks me within.

the only salvation is
among the others of my
kind,
my breed.

there
in the bar

a table by the window
and the drinks arrive,
and the people
talk in quiet voices

faces blank like
a winter's night.

we never look each other
in the eyes
and that's mercy we show.

I nod to my glass,
raise it to my mouth
and smile.

kind of blue,

around me,

everything.

from the jukebox,
Miles D.
tells me that maybe
tomorrow will be
better.

© Peycho Kanev