Artchil Daug Poems

Soft cushion, touching
my softer skin, within
reach, a lullaby on
the table, I crawled
...

Books on travels,
travelling books,
as the world unravels,
with its little nooks,
...

He asked not perdition yet
the world opened, carried
in the air of the afternoon
his eyes to hers, translucent
...

A unit of experts, positioning themselves,
the grenadier, the machine gunner
the common soldier, the sniper
the platoon leader, and those faceless few
...

The stairs by mid-day felt slippery
as heat enveloped my mind after
books unchained me towards
that incandescent lamp giving off
...

A glass goblet in
a party during
a celebration
of a law passed,
...

Atonement is the reflection in the mirror
of ourselves struggling to reconcile
the broken structures of our ego caused
by the confusion between the images
...

The circumstances of our position nail you
to that cross, crucified in Golgotha
impugned for tax evasion and prophetic visions,
you now suffer for much simpler mishaps
...

Three non-believers told me that they
believe that they don't believe in God
and that the roots of Descartes' tree
turned to ashes through the fires of science—
...

Gunshots, enveloping,
the second layer of security,
catapulting, wickedness.
Turning the saleslady
...