Sleepless, magic night
your fingers and legs spread wide
exploring new worlds.
There is no sin, just
a dark forest first
came the drum, da-da,
and then came the song.
At fourteen I talked to ghosts with
bud and cheap blood running in the
There was a glamour but I did not understand
anything that they were trying to say.
If you must belong to a tribe, come. No
one has loved you with lips and
with you until the moon’s day-face
with the dawn. None have brought you
We are a tribe of never-was. We are
a tribe of all of us that might have
Hear me. This is no gift. Here be
vhukneri. This is your clitoris,
tslik. This is my tongue, lezu. They
this witchcraft, kakhardut’yun. A
must ride a long-tongued ghost to learn
occult secrets. You, blood heart, must
To be a corpse bride, to find a long
lover, to have your crazy hair caught
in the air, saints preserve, in a
first came the drum, then the song, for
singing, I am drumming. No one hears
At the crossroads you shall find all:
hashish cakes and shadows. Ride me, I
your drum, singing your way back home.
a hard ride. Together we will go far.
The foreign words I use are Armenian:
ՎՀՈՒԿՆԵՐԻ (vhukneri) =
ԾԼԻԿ (tslik) = clitoris.
ԼԵԶՈՒ (lezu) = tongue.
(kakhardut’yun) = witchcraft.