-
Verse by Mike Ravdonikas, from Dubai and other worlds @markus | @ravdonikas
An account of my father /
I have no demons,
save for those
with horns of plush.
Nobody hit me,
and my father
walked out gently:
took me months,
to notice that
his gradual withdrawal
was complete.
We stayed in touch
over much email,
up until my girlfriends
took away all bandwidth
(at about 15). He got me
residence in Canada,
I moved, we saw
each other sometimes,
he became a
grandfather (another
duty to abandon
10 years in). I left
the country, lost
my residence to greener
pastures (walking out
on him?). The pastures
turned to sands,
if greener than before.
More years passed —
then he disappeared,
six months ago.
Today his Telegram
account got wiped.
A silent well of email's
all that's left for
my unanswered stones.
@verse by MR
Bonded /
Travel enough,
and destinations
will dissolve to little more
than movie sets,
another 50 seconds
of another chase
through a bazaar,
a village, a hotel,
a bamboo forest –
then a tackle
or a shootout,
and there comes
another clue:
a note, a briefcase,
a confession –
leading to another
point
on your paper globe
with pins,
which gets
one needle closer
to a hedgehog.
@verse by MR
Tropic of Concert /
The Caribbean night
attacks with sound
from every quarter –
from the patter of the rain,
to the cicadas’ whistling
altos (you would think
they’d take a cheque,
the weather being…)
to the backbeat
of the sea’s insisting
check-ins, wave upon
wave, a pause, another wave.
I’m waiting.
Might the next one break
this night’s reluctance to tuck in?
@verse by MR
Uncomfortable wonders /
If you knew you were one of the few
who could practice the art of
necromancy – raise undead
with the magic of blood,
bone and grave dust –
would you dare to do it?
Or would you pretend
to remain in the world of the “normal” –
and do what mundane stuff
you normally would?
@verse by MR
Swallows in flight /
Hurtling back-first
into the morning
of another day and
soon – another sky.
The airport express,
a bullet train to hit
the scaleless sides
of lightweight metal
dragons – waiting,
wings outstretched
upon a field of
anything but field
to swallow up
my bags, my me
and jet lost, thankfully,
like anything but swallow.
@verse by MR
Milan, July /
(you may want to turn your phone to horizontal mode for this one)
It's just me and the silly soft, feathery clouds,
like a pillow undone on the backdrop of night:
not a star to be seen and my feet feel the wet
of the balcony tiles. Rain has brought some respite
to this city that's stuck on the plain — like a shot
in a sling — between mountains and mountains, and on-
ly the East is a vent to the sea (and to Ve-
nice), the rest is too steep for the heat to move on.
On then!
Rise to the wind like a silvery sail,
pierce your back with this moonlight,
fall home with the dust,
drive your comet to fiery endings,
shrug dragonly scales — eat the Earth
to the fullest, to crispiest crust.
(And a happy birthday to me 🥮)
Journeys /
At times
a teacher’s sweat
is thicker than
the blood of parents.
@verse by MR
Casualties /
A body, dead, with open eyes;
a body, dead, with open eyes;
a body, dead, with open eyes;
a body, dead, without a head...
This poem doesn't have the lines
to fit a hundred thousand. Yet,
the only way past stats and lies
is counting each of those lost lives:
a list of graves, page upon page,
a line to each.
With open eyes.
@verse by MR
Dedication /
Who else could I be
but a poet?
A novel wants hours
alone at one's desk:
and why would I
part from you —
even for minutes?
@verse by MR
(This one is a bit heavy on references, so I'm including a ChatGPT analysis. In this brave new world of 2023, that article took about 30 minutes to craft — sometimes rephrasing the request, sometimes deleting a sentence here and there to make things more compact; the only thing the AI couldn't handle well was choosing the particular examples, I ended up adding them myself to save time.)
A Prayer /
Read the names
of great painters —
to plant your feet
back on this Earth
and to tether the spirit,
too tired of low information.
Thus:
Boldini; and look at their eyes,
at their hands so dissolved
in the air.
Study Sisley,
alone in a winterscape,
sodden with snow.
Stormy Gainsborough,
run from those looks,
you unwary of heart.
Take a rest
by the side of a haystack
and think of Millet.
Semiradsky,
his sun playing leopard
in shadow of trees.
Follow Hopper,
alone in a city
or outside of town.
Dream of Harris,
alone in the ice
of improbable shades.
Marc and Macke
who failed
to survive through the war.
Twilight Vrubel
who looked to the Other side,
searching for more.
And the greedy Grechetto
who valued his objects
and brilliant blue.
(It's a pity
that digital copies
won't give you a clue.)
@verse by MR
===
And if you're not yet bothered by AIs, here's why you could be:
Interview with a war /
Temporarily Unavailable
Migrations /
soon the season
will take me far
away from heavy
books will sit on
summer shelves
unleafed through
undisturbed save
by the duster of the
maid until October
smiles Orion from
the balcony and
falcons instead owls
and no more dogs
in restaurants and
has it really been
another — yes,
we're back and,
why, we aren't
even gone yet.
@verse by MR
Clipping sound of scissors /
My barber's like a priest:
how long since your
last haircut? Then,
we sometimes smile
that way and back
until he says:
'No more, I think.'
And I agree
and dive into the world,
refreshed by silence.
@verse by MR
Durée /
A quarter of a century
is longer than
a quarter of an hour –
by only ten
@verse
Coming back to Dubai in spring has its advantages, even if this isn’t exactly the place for blooming cherries and magnolias.
@verse by MR
Ocean Local /
Please sand
behind the yellow line.
Let others exit first,
before you plunge.
Leave seashells
for the passengers
with kids,
the elderly, and people
of determination.
The next wave
is arriving in two seconds,
ocean-bound.
@verse by MR
“Legacy” /
Digital past dissolves
without a box
up in your parents’ attic
some descendant could
unearth and browse.
‘I found a link
to father’s teenage blog
on some forsaken platform!
– but the page said
404.’
@verse by MR
Wonderland /
This summer evening,
chasing rabbits is
a real thing,
on a hilltop, downtown
Helsinki: a park,
a fountain, bushes,
bunnies – large as hares.
How does one go about
extracting their wife
from Wonderland,
should she discover
one down there?
@verse by MR
Paper Plane /
I found an unsent letter
to my grandpa
who is dead;
stroking the surface,
like a cheek,
or wrinkled knuckles,
made the sheet
into a paper plane —
the balcony! —
and I won't watch it land,
because the true one
is still flying.
🎂
Coping Mechanisms /
I’m a cloak on the shoulders
of working-me – and when he
goes to sleep and I hang
on my peg at the door
I am free of all care –
and who knows who will wear
me tomorrow?
@verse by MR
Al-Ula /
Stars twinkle
in the evening wind
of the Hejaz,
fresh out of Hegra.
Bread of mountains,
butter of the desert.
The squeaking of the tentpole —
or a creature of the night?
Thus was it that I saw
the stars of Scorpion
crawl out of the horizon
for the first time.
@verse by MR
General store /
Recall the silence of a shop
before the malls: maybe
the hum of freezers,
creaking floorboards,
or the flapping sound of
feet upon linoleum,
a muted conversation
from the backroom,
maybe radio, the jazz
standards of payment:
stroke of till keys,
yawn of money as it opens
and the clang of closure
when it shuts. A swing of door,
a chime — and you are out,
consumed by sun,
supported by the pavement.
@verse by MR
Microwaves from the Big Bang /
Reading about cosmic radiation
is like a prayer —
for what better way of
utterly resigning to your place
in space and to the scale of things
is there than this:
the micro-tremble moving
through your heart that
carries in it a forsaken echo
of the start of everything —
the white glow of primordial light,
red-shifted to a harmless fibrillation.
@verse by MR
GPT-Explainer: The Big Bang, the event believed to have started the universe, left behind signals that have stretched out over time as the result of a phenomenon called "redshift". It's like how a car's sound becomes deeper as it moves away from you. The Big Bang signals are so ancient that they have redshifted from light to microwaves. These microwaves are everywhere—even passing through your heart right now. This realization transforms scientific awareness into a religious experience, making reading about cosmic radiation feel like a prayer.
Midnight scramble /
The agony of looking for
your phone when you
can not afford to make it ring,
at night: a black misplaced
device laughs at its owner
from some unexpected
corner of the dark room —
Here? No, it's the third time
that I look behind this pillow...
And, unlike your glasses,
it is never on your head.
@verse by MR
(Next time, look for something you've removed, like a gown or jacket. It's in the pocket, I guarantee you.)
Dubai's Cold Skin /
I like to cross
that space between
the buildings —
just to touch
some undeveloped ground,
shovel some sand
and gravel with my sandals —
wondering which
dried out sea
had once carressed
these crystals
only
to be dumped here
by a truck.
@verse by MR
The Lands of Poppies /
You can’t bring poppy seeds
of any kind into the Emirates,
they told me. So it is here,
outside, that I enjoy my
dearest flowers bloom
their bloodstains on the grass
under the passing clouds,
their tissue petals – oh so fragile,
oh so loud.
@verse by MR
Gravity /
A red balloon,
almost exhausted,
creeps along the wall
pushed by the wind,
like a lost pet.
Oh, how you soared,
you poor thing!
Did you think
the Earth forgets?
@verse by MR
(Now also in pictures)
Off the Books /
God isn't a medication,
prescribed and consumed
like the doctor said.
God doesn't have Terms of Use,
and he would never stoop to fine print.
God is what you know in your heart –
and you know that.
And yet you keep asking
that others explain:
what God is,
what God does,
what he wants you to do.
And when you believe them
they happily call it 'belief'.
MR @verse