just know, love, I used up the last of my 1000 likes on you!
Tagged By: soulreserve
Name/ Nicknames: Zachary, though I sign almost all letters simply with Z because who else is named Z?
Sign: The most awesome of all signs, Pisces.
Current Occupation: Hospice nurse.
What Languages Do You Know? English, can read Spanish, can embarrass myself in Armenian.
Spirit Animal (or animal you relate to the most): Great White shark, the shadow in the deep.
Average Hours Of Sleep: Chronic insomniac, 3-4 unless it is humid then I can’t sleep.
Favorite deity from ancient history: Astghik, Armenian goddess of sacred sexuality.
Last Thing Googled: How to spell Astghik.
Last Movie Seen In Theaters: Lucy (2014)
Last Musical Artist or Group Listened To: The Coathangers.
Cat or Dog Person: Both, though I have three cats.
# Of Blankets I Sleep With: I am a space-heater of love — from March until October I sleep with only a thin sheet, if it gets really cold then I break out a second thin sheet.
Celebrity Crush: Lord Byron.
Tattoos/ Piercings/ Body Modification: Both nipples are pierced, though I promised myself if I ever make it to 60 I’m going to Japan and get Yakuza-style tattoos over my arms, chest and legs.
Favorite Colors: Purple-silver-blue-green (the colors of the sea).
Favorite Books: “The Gypsy Ballads,” by Federico Garcia Lorca; “Diana’s Tree,” by Alejandra Pizarnik; “The Random House Webster’s Pocket Rhyming Dictionary” by some anonymous schmo — I love you, schmo!
Favorite Quote: “If you can’t be a good example then be a horrible warning.”
Favorite Type of Writing: Sonnets! I am a sonnet monger.
Day-Dream Trip: Armenia, to see how my beloved ghost city, Gyumri, is doing.
Do you say “Zee” or “Zed” to describe the letter Z? Zee when I’m talking about myself in first person, Zed when in third.
What I am Wearing Now: A smile.
Share Four Photos Of Yourself (that track your aging for good or ill):
(from top to bottom: ages 22, 32, 45 and 41)
Tag Random Blogs You Love Following: softlyschaoticheart, huzurayolculuk, verbalassuage, wintermanworld, jmarie0621itsme, mimosa203, donot4gettosmile, mishuhsim, my-inside-voice, paper-trailss, ajttk, maggieumber and kyrahphotos!
To Put Down Roots
You’re old enough to know better
than to bed your arch-ghost on a pallet
and reconcile with your biography
by disinfecting its sores –
You can piece up your own season in this cranny
that frames your most volatile shape
gutter and a cupped god
by turns wipe their snot on
but where hurt comes with an ex ante bandage –
Choose summer, show us your skin
and we’ll read your scars as traces of lipstick
knowing red is not a warm but a lurid color,
choose winter and show us how the rim
of an ice sheet feels against your sacrum,
show us how your senses deaden like tea lights –
When the skies are lashed up
gray and redundant and the floor lamp oozes
a leap year of darkness to come
I’ll put you in the tub and reawake you
with the most soothing twaddle I can muster
to overwrite the voice mistakenly
put inside you.
I love this so much, thank you! What a blessing =D
titans were built to last,
no cut corners
like the titanic
so I don’t think Atlas flinched
when the first tower came crashing down
but I don’t want to believe in gods
who punish their children for getting along.
what sense is there in a gala canceled
and its guests’ eyes gouged out
because they found each other
what lesson are we supposed to learn from this,
unity is not something to strive for?
or was our sin greater than pride,
our transgressions whitewashed
by our ancestors
trying to spare us their shame?
maybe we were a threat,
trying to breach the gate of heaven
with muddy footprints, bloody handprints,
and maybe we have become a threat again,
our science approaching, but morals unsteady
to handle the power of stargates
and a common tongue
or maybe it was a blessing, our diaspora —
I heard someone say once
more atrocities and genocides were committed
after the proliferation of babelfishes
than before everyone could understand each other,
size up each other’s treasures and defenses,
our openness a giveaway
that we’re ready for the taking
I don’t think any amount of threats or carnage will ever stop us
from clearing away our rubble
and trying to come together
again and again.
if they destroy our fourth babylon
we’ll build a fifth one in outer space,
and if they set Babylon 5 aflame and send it hurtling to the ground
a fiery message to not try again,
we’ll start building Babylon 6 in inner space
This is amazing, thank you ever so much!
sense of humor to know that life is a confusing mess and that we do
the best that we can; a willingness to take my hand while skinny
dipping on a rainy, stormy night because some things just need to be
shared while holding hands; starting a letter with the words,
“because nobody else has ever asked me let me tell you this …”
the phobias that involve those that I love; indifference; an
inability to see that erotica is a form of spirituality and that
through it we try to be the best that we can.
 It’s called “Tatterhood,” from Ruth Manning Sanders’
“A Book of Witches,” which involves two sisters, one sorta dull
and beautiful and one sorta ugly but rides around on her pet goat and
more importantly they love each other. When the beautiful one gets
kidnapped Tatterhood sails off to rescue her. I adore all stories
where the unconventional girl is the hero.
 The tenor sax (the one instrument that, thank you
Dr. Freud, I’m still struggling to understand), the duduk (an
Armenian wooden flute with 9-holes), anything with a cello.
 I went through all of primary school as a C- student.
Literally everything that was AP was a curse. Then one day in college
I was told I was dyslexic and suddenly the world made sense. Now I’m
a nurse and am in love with sonnets. What else can I ask for?
 There’s an old saying that in any poem there’s only
one good line; I look at my worst line and use that. There’s another
old saying that no one will challenge you on what you name your
child, provided it’s not “adolph” or “untitled” since who
would ever name what they labored over that?
 No tats, but both nips have rings in them. I got them when
I was an exchange student in London and bled so much that I passed
out in the bathtub.
 For 9 years I was a gym-bot and
loved working out. I was a skinny thing and was astounded that at one
point I could see my abs. Isn’t that what everyone wants? Then my
thyroid gave out on me and for 2 years was unable to even walk
upstairs without laboring for a breath. After a long battle, and with
the proper medication, I’ve been able to stabilize myself to the
point where I’m working out again. Yet, sadly, I’m soft and can
“pinch an inch” as they say. Hell, my glorious ass sorta shrank.
What can a boy say? We are constantly faced with challenges and
change happens even to the best of us. And yet, more than all that,
what has devastated me is that when I broke off my right front tooth
my lisp (which was always part of my persona) because so pronounced
that after they fitted me with a new one it got to the point where I
don’t perform at open mics anymore because … you know, a lot of my
poetry has “th”s in them.
 Putney (London, as an exchange student), Gyumri
(Armenia, in Peace Corps, where I broke off my tooth), Las Vegas (NV,
for grad school), Arnold (CA, for field archaeology), Grand Marais
(MI, as a light house tour guide). I now live in Grand Rapids (MI, as
a hospice nurse).
 It was a poem called, “the male whore,” in “The Taste
of Latex” (1992) out of San Francisco. Even now I still chuckle at
myself and say, bravo!
Minha fome de você, meu veneno. Teu beijo em meu pescoço, uma mordida. Matando, paixão, criação — você me faz Shiva, o destruidor de mundos.
My hunger for you, my poison. Your kiss on my neck, a bite. Killing, passion, creation — you make me Shiva, the destroyer of worlds.
(another poor attempt at Portuguese translation)
This is not so bad ,some prevoius one were almost there but portuese is a tricky language .. lol
lapping you up is like drinking
down sea water. the more i
drink, the thirstier i become.
tonight i’ll drown in the
seven seas …
Estar contigo ao colo e como beber até á água do mar .Quanto mais eu bebo ,mais sedento fico ,hoje vou -me afogar nos sete mares ….( portuguese translation )
I tricked myself
one of those
irish girls –
and green eyes
that looked like
in the lake
I loved her
I might as well have
it was the
cast to her eye
that caught my heart
one of those
irish girls –
with an h
in a strange spot –
that I could taste
in the air
whenever she said it
thickening the end
of her name
that it made me
I want to take you
down to the river
and push you in
I want to see you
come up laughing
and reach out
to draw me in
let the water
fill our lungs –
but it feels
to have you
let’s make love
beneath the waves
and drown ourselves there
why everyone runs
when they see us
let’s make our home
in the woods
of the dead
I could die
and live happily with that
you liked poetry
and you knew
how to read.
This is a shout-out to those who wrote to me when I was feeling very blue last week. Your kindness was exactly what I needed, thank you! It’s still a bit crazy on my end.
To make a long story short, my grandmother was 92 years old when she passed over, so it wasn’t shocking, but sad. I flew out to California last Friday for the funeral, but something went wrong. I’m back in Michigan now, the funeral hasn’t happened just yet, though I fly back out to California on this coming Sunday. My grandfather is a retired marine (he fought in World War 2, in the Pacific) and he wants for himself and my grandmother to be buried at the marine cemetery Riverside, CA (it’s a big honor to be buried there). You’d think this would be a simple request, but no. Everything comes down to waiting until a governmental office in Minneapolis that deals with arranging for marine burials gives the funeral home where my grandmother’s body is currently at the OK to bring her to Riverside. We had been told it was going to happen yesterday, on Sunday, so the whole family flew in from Colorado and Michigan and parts of California down to Santa Ana where my grandparents lived. What no one told us was that last Monday was Veteran’s Day, being a holiday, so that pushed everything back a week. We believe the screw-up occurred with the funeral home, since they were the ones who told us the date. Unfortunately they’re also the only service in all of LA that deals with Riverside directly, so it wasn’t like we could go use someone else. Anyway, what this means to me is I’ll be in Michigan until next week, when I’ll battle Thanksgiving holiday crowds to head out to California for 48 hours for the funeral (I hope it happens this time) The good side of all this is that we were able to have our service for my grandmother on time, since the whole family was together. That felt good.
Once again, getting your kindness last week was a delight and surprise. It was exactly what I needed =)