Mike Ravdonikas: Poems

Machine Teaching / The helpless AI-God flips through a trillion answers to a prayer: would these bits of recipes, a sutra and a thesis — shaken, stirred — provide relief? A sense of unity? A reason to be good? He jerry-rigs Commandments with the abandon of a blind photographer, six-fingered moral compass spinning on. @verse by MR

@verse by MR

Ocean Local (sound on 🔈) It was never about an actual train. I wrote this on a beach, watching the surf line (so yes, no typos here), and thinking of the subway at best – not the mighty Shinkansen. Yet, here it is now: a bridge between a bullet-train at Kyoto station and an Antiguan sunset, both shot last year. @verse by MR

A journey from pain to health in 8 poems, with thanks to everyone involved — and a warning to anyone working behind a screen. https://telegra.ph/There-and-Neck-Again-in-8-Poems-03-04 @verse by MR

The thing about clouds / I used to write a lot about my clouds – one language and two continents ago. Their snowy march across my spring was proud, like arching backs on certain beds, and so seemed future paths which, back then, flowed ahead. My cloud processions led the way a while and yet, no cloud’s reliable – they fled to leave behind a new life: new apartment, empty skies, save for a haze of sand on the horizon, and the rising heat of January’s end. A “cloud”? In this Dubai, it’s but the tenth time that I squeeze the word into a poem – Boeings paint my skies with semblances of these, not saturnine enough to prove the mantra still holds true: whatever you might think, whatever you might do, the clouds above you move. @verse by MR

An account of my father / I have no demons, save for those with horns of plush. Nobody hit me, and my father walked out gently: took me months, to notice that his gradual withdrawal was complete. We stayed in touch over much email, up until my girlfriends took away all bandwidth (at about 15). He got me residence in Canada, I moved, we saw each other sometimes, he became a grandfather (another duty to abandon 10 years in). I left the country, lost my residence to greener pastures (walking out on him?). The pastures turned to sands, if greener than before. More years passed — then he disappeared, six months ago. Today his Telegram account got wiped. A silent well of email is all that's left for my unanswered stones. @verse by MR

The Ultimate Antidote / Marry someone you talk to for hours, and hours — until it is dawn — over weeks, over months upon months, upon months, upon months. You'll stay married for years — upon decades — till death do us spare (lest our chatter stirs up Lethe's waters and fucks up its shores). @verse by MR

Bonded / Travel enough, and destinations dissolve into mere movie sets. Another 50 seconds of another chase through a bazaar, a bog, a bamboo forest. Then the tackle! And the clue: a page, a briefcase. One more pin, your paper globe gets closer to a hedgehog. @verse by MR

Ocean Local / Please stand behind the yellow line. Let others exit first, before you plunge. Leave seashells for the passengers with kids, the elderly, and people of determination. The next wave is arriving in two seconds, ocean-bound. @verse by MR

Tropic of Concert / The Caribbean night attacks with sound from every quarter – from the patter of the rain, to the cicadas’ whistling altos (you would think they’d take a cheque, the weather being…) to the backbeat of the sea’s insisting check-ins, wave upon wave, a pause, another wave. I’m waiting. Might the next one break this night’s reluctance to tuck in? @verse by MR

“Legacy” / Digital past dissolves without a box up in your parents’ attic some descendant could unearth and browse. ‘I found a link to father’s teenage blog!' The page said: '404. Domain For Sale'. @verse by MR