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Peycho Kanev



The Universe with all of its atomic tidiness is a bit
incomprehensible. Metaphysics too. But I like physics
more than the physicists. The world is full of geniuses
and some others. The world is strange, like a movie shot in
Technicolor, but there is too much red in it. Imagine
the Crusades, imagine the Inquisition, imagine all of it
until now. What if, like the fiction writers like to say,
time starts to flow in the other direction? Imagine Galileo
working with hexa-core processor, Henry VIII on Viagra,
Einstein sweating in a Chinese fireworks factory. That’s why
I keep myself close to the agnosticism. This world
was screwed up before time was time, even before emptiness
gave any hints of vacuum. That’s why I like the simple
things. For example, in a gas station in Arizona, in some
foreign language the American Indian at the counter tried
to explain to me how to pay for the gasoline. I asked him
in perfect Bulgarian whether he had read about the life of
Ambroise Vollard. At the end we understood each other
perfectly well in universal slang, and I continued west. Like
I said, I like the simple things. Now, I think about the grass
outside. About each leaf thirsty for a few drops
of water in this dried world, painted in blood. I think of
the world as an accordion, but I don’t know how to dance
tarantella or polka. I think about all this pain for which there
is no vaccine. I have been in Silver City, New Mexico.
The city still scratches the memories of a gold rush. I’ve been
in the ghettos of New York. That’s why I say that if we didn’t
die we wouldn’t care about the time. That’s why I love
words. Everything is simple with words. But is there
anything worse than a creature who lives only to write poetry?
Where are Ovid, Boileau, Dante? Is it still alive, Gilgamesh’s
aspiration to achieve immortality? Listen, we live and
die. Listen, into the light of this cigarette you can find more life
than the whole universe. That is enough.

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Peycho Kanev is the author of four poetry collections and two chapbooks. He has won several European awards for his poetry and he’s nominated for the Pushcart Award and Best of the Net. Translations of his books will be published soon in Italy, Poland and Russia. His poems have appeared in more than 900 literary magazines, such as: Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Columbia College Literary Review, Hawaii Review, Cordite Poetry Review, Sheepshead Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review, The Coachella Review, Two Thirds North, Sierra Nevada Review, The Cleveland Review and many others. 

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