Tag Archives: Innas Tsuroiya

“Outskirt Melancholia” – Poetry by Innas Tsuroiya

Study for Man and Machine - Hannah Hoch, 1921
Study for Man and Machine – Hannah Hoch, 1921

An estranged sense of yearning haunts “Outskirt Melancholia,” one of two enigmatically beautiful poems by Innas Tsuroiya in our Spring 2016 issue.

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FROM AN ABANDONED METROPOLIS BORN OF ROBOTS

or automatons; birthing noise and

disturbance, bearing hurl and turbulence

peeling our eyes out of riddles and

tiresomeness beyond compare

 

we are machine, we are motorcar

we are dysfunctional engine that sleeps

alone next to the city’s perimeter

we are unpaid safeguard praised of

being such passionless

we are not who we judge we are

 

then again who else in the earth is being

tired from getting tired; you may cast a

query to me from a small cavity crafted

in your water vacuum tube where you hide

all your emotions or from a buttonhole in

your gasoline-smelling armor-clad suit

 

we crawl underneath the leap of our faith

yet we are forever here in the borderline

of an abandoned metropolis born of

robots or automatons— but full of photographs

and paintings from faraway suburbs that

we never ever visit, we never ever call in

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“Muse, Elucidated” – Poetry by Innas Tsuroiya

Hesiod and the Muse - Gustave Moreau, 1893
Hesiod and the Muse – Gustave Moreau, 1891

The enchanting “Muse, Elucidated” is one of two enigmatically beautiful poems by Innas Tsuroiya in our Spring 2016 issue.

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IN THE END, WHEN YOU CAPTIVATE

the       h          o          l           l           o          w          tunnel

channeling through my dilated pupil

with me capturing back to you, already enchanted

spell-bound and damaged in a cryptic melancholia

being unable to dissuade such moment from aerifying

into free air and summer atmosphere;

may your papers be sated with raw alphabets

streaming until the end of page

not stopping until you ambit the very last breath

or the thrill of having backache

 

do you not have to sway back and forth again

to incarnate those dead words into divine subtlety

for I am here casting shadow over your body

between dimmed candles and city lights

between promises and frights, between us

l           o          o          s          e          n          i           n          g

each other’s grip for once in a while

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Digital (PDF) Copies of FLAPPERHOUSE #9 Now Available for Pre-Order

Monstrous immortality, reincarnation, eternal recurrence, never-ending gender, virtual sex, multiple organisms, reclusive regiments: FLAPPERHOUSE #9.

coming
MARCH 20, 2016

Pre-order a DIGITAL (PDF) copy for $3US and watch it fly into your emailbox
by the Vernal Equinox!
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#9
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starring – J. BradleyLeona GodinRob Hartzellj/j hastainStephen Langlois,
William LessardSarah LiliusEmily LinstromCatfish McDarisLauren Milici,
Sarah Frances MoranAhimaaz RajeshChristina M. RauNickalus Rupert,
Joseph Tomaras, and Innas Tsuroiya

“The Sin of a Son” – Poetry by Innas Tsuroiya

My Son - Suzanne Valadon, 1896
My Son – Suzanne Valadon, 1896

Tenderness wrestles with taboo in “The Sin of a Son,” Innas Tsuroiya‘s  evocative poem from our Winter 2016 issue.

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SAVORING; HIS UNFLEDGED SKIN very squelchy by day

                                                                                                                            very pixilated by night

yours truly longed for soaking in there before dawn lit

and craved for an ostinato after dusk set

 

                    —we danced together as we melted

                    had the disarray sheet been plucked from our bed

he was that green and sweaty, so baby-like

could have been rakishly trapped in silky spider web

if I ever left him alone in the cruel sphere of tropical woods

in the search of a lost father and an unborn sister

 

but then he remembered my womb as the warmest place ever

so he cried in my left arm and snuggled into my right nipple

                    —whispered he, you look like a virgin, while viciously switching direction

                    to vice versa, compelling the storm to crash inside his body

he knew his innocuous eyes had tricked me into

                                                                                                            beguiling solicitation;

the coldest hell housing our sweet wrong

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Continue reading “The Sin of a Son” – Poetry by Innas Tsuroiya