postcard #2 – istanbul

i am unwritten
but i am beautiful
and there is, truly
so much written
in my walls
but all you see
are spires
and minarets
and the sun rising
like desert fire
throwing them
into dusky relief

i want to call myself
sophia
and call myself wise
sancta sapientia
and sings song about
cities that once were
still are
what’s in a name
i’d call you byzantium
anyway
and name all my daughters
after muses and maenads
and the apple tea will
be spiked
and we will float down
the bosphorous
dreaming once more

postcard #1 – budapest

they call paris
the city of lights
and twinkling on screen
i believe it

but here the cardboard
comes to life
passed through the hands
of me
of you
of countless
postal workers
of bridges lit up
carrying light across
the danube
glowing like
so many
strange nebulae
a skyline of dark
and amber
a gilded series
of shadows

the pearl of the danube
laid in gold

[this is a series i will work through, i think, on days when i don’t have specific other creative plans in place – hence the name]