Two poems by Lillian Tzanev

Observing a man’s hair plugs

either my new low / or perhaps a new peace /

a petal laid on a pond’s surface / i stare at follicles /

something short circuits / all this tiptoeing wakes me up from a coma /

shows me a leaf’s final green before it’s new yellow / movement /

silence / i’m in a crime show’s opening sequence / minutes away from tragedy /

yesterday, i saw a man’s body on broadway / horizontal / alongside his bike /

was that an omen / like itchy bumpy skin / i lay awake debating /

do i have itchy bumps or bumpy itches / but i’m trying to learn quiet /

i want to be dry / loose grains of sand / impossible /

instead, i could be compact wet sand / moveable / but shaped with intention /

Remnants

I have a bad habit 

of seeing what’s not really there. 

It comes in handy while ghost hunting 

not so much while creating an ambience.

In college, I declared I was a nihilist 

or something like it. I guess I gotta stick with it

so, nothing means anything. 

There is no such thing as a ghost

though, I hope I never gave you that impression.

Lillian Tzanev is a writer from NYC. She has appeared in The Allegheny Review, Short Vine Literary Journal, The Messenger, and WLN: A Journal of Writing Center Scholarship.