Tag Archives: Peycho Kanev

The Wound

The heavy ax right in the center of the pain which ceases to exist as the sharp blade slowly falls down on the metaphor just as heavy just as light— Peycho Kanev is the author of four poetry collections and … Continue reading

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The Death of the Poet

I see that you struggle to breathe in this room of fading moonlight and residual odor of wilting begonias. The lamp blinks. Along the horizon’s edge the dawn sends its false promises. And I dream that you are dreaming of … Continue reading

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Two

The dying of the sun, the dying of the hour Thousands of books screaming Fire Bricks of music are rising just to fall down Empty streets leading to houses without doors My flushed face Her shattered vase Then the stars … Continue reading

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Peeping Tom

He looks through the shades But he sees only too much pink and red And he goes to another window Another man spies on his own wife under the shower And he finds this man in there who is himself … Continue reading

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Ancient Game

I look for him everywhere But he goes to war I look for him in the puddles of blood He climbs mountains I look for him in the ocean of my eyes He flies to the moon And I look … Continue reading

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Findings

I’m the bullet flying through the raindrops. Death comes towards you, limping along like a cow that has stepped on a landmine. These slow-motion stills cannot change anything. The hands of the clock make love with the hours. The mole … Continue reading

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Little Stories

They say that if you want to understand the others you have to get out of your skin and try to fit in their shoes. But how can I do that? This fearsome timelessness doesn’t allow us to be somebody else. Look … Continue reading

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