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By Peycho Kanev

The war is so far away from us,

inside our heads.

I lie under the ground like a mole,

among the white bones of the soldiers,

and look up.

I see the foundations of buildings

and trenches.

In front of the church: puddles of mud

and blood – eyes of the earth, tears of


Inside: the wooden statue of the saint

looks idiotic in his colorful clothes;

everything else is then, then, then. Old.

One question rises from the ground: Why?

And I don’t know. But that’s where we’re going.


Peycho Kanev is the author of 12 poetry collections and three chapbooks, published in the USA and Europe. His poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Rattle, Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Hawaii Review, Barrow Street, Sheepshead Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review, Sierra Nevada Review, The Cleveland Review and many others. His new book of poetry titled A Fake Memoir was published in 2022 by Cyberwit Press.


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