from Turkey 2007
Each day the tireless of Istanbul stepped beneath to pace over. directed feet shifted by the surrounding motors, by infrastructure. The new valleys are loud they are dark with commerce.
The shot strokes the Bosphorus over the heads of where lovers had sat, lovers on the rocks like beeps of horns they were soon absorbed and lost to a larger ebb of matter 
Sheets were sold to catch the odour of the barbecue and the discarded waters of fishermen searching the river for little lives.
Heat made desperate the young to rip into waters colds , the black sea, and discard any hardness of the minerals in Trabzon.
Ararat revealed a glancing steady body from beneath her grey white veil as the suit and jaw looked away.
The vision continued for the elder and games of distance and water sunk beneath dreams of heroism to become a salvage and a need.
Woollen mounds, curtains of knotted fleece sat or hung in hoards. Waiting warmth clothed around the three tombs of Erzurum. She held a drape of cleanliness beside them.
Mirth of play with tool for seeing things distant and breathing beneath the water. Expansions of body free in distance and matter they found nothing around the walls of the blue mosque but a cat and a tourist.
A still column, low and cleanly severed by sharp mist thrust from lake Van. A plinth for a sky that only the boy could puncture with difference and movement to never have a horizon. Not one leans for the other.
Shouts, roars in the circle wouldn’t aid this man to beat the ceramic below. The stick snapped upon the paved ground and an exhaled breath cloud remained above him.
