"small coffee with two cubes of sugar," "aim and look aside," and "present is god's sandwich wedged between past and future"

small coffee with two cubes of sugar

whitish parchments of the
unwound ambiance lingers
in your cellophane eyes

the distance subduing
the sounds of mountains
is bombed out skeletons

the bends of rivers
the thorns of the buckeyes
the swirling of anthills
the droning of beehives
the silence of spiders
are dispersing gasoline stripes
of airplanes

and the sound of men
mocking god

this might be the moment
you finally decide
to move ahead…



aim and look aside

the night watchman swears
the train never goes to places
where the river has no recollection
where the valley is the watch-pocket of the hill
where the pitapat sound turns to music

the train goes
where there are
possible offerings

where god
looks aside



present is god’s sandwich wedged between past and future

darkness and fog provides security
as opposed to the light of a street lamp

on the other side of the fence
stands a white washed house


in the blade-mirror of god’s dagger
a cul-de-sac makes itself visible



Gabor G Gyukics

Gabor G Gyukics (b. 1958) is a Hungarian-American poet and literary translator, author of seven books of original poetry, four in Hungarian, two in English, one in Bulgarian, and 11 books of translations including A Transparent Lion, selected poetry of Attila József in English and an anthology of North American Indigenous poets in Hungarian. He writes his poems in English (which is his second language) and Hungarian. He lived in Holland for two years before moving to the United States between 1988 and 2002. He now lives in the isle of Csepel in Budapest, Hungary. His latest book is a hermit has no plural (Singing Bone Press, 2015). Photo by Sándor Gyapjas.


Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Monday, July 2, 2018 - 11:45