three poems

by Dario Cvencek

THE CRAZIEST

the days like sick roses

I kiss the wrinkled bread

with the knife heavy as the waking

up of a drunken god

the soles of my shoes stink

of foreign countries

and my mouth

of foreign tongues

while snails secrete

the warm laughter

of paperbags

hiccupping

in the wind

rope-dancing on the ground

of my frog shame

I drink the bonfires

down like milk

and open windows with dynamite

wetted by wine and freon and

ink of sawdust voices

as clouds keep scratching

the sky like fingers

of an animal

a garbage truck drives off

panting as I look for some

clean underwear

more than the wisdom of pyramids

and all Greek temples together

I envy the clarity

of the pigeon brain

with an earthquake

in my left ear I walk

in circles through the

chewing gum of my soul

as meshy nights are cast

around half of this planet

I can hear the water

of some river dripping

in my kitchen at 4:36 am

and for seven months now

I’ve been constipated

with madness

THE ODDS THAT AREN’T

I open the pipe

but nothing comes out

so I keep burning inside the mirror

as squirrels jump out of the trees and look

as if they’ve just landed on the moon cars

stand still on the bridges and sharply dressed old men

clean shoes in the airports for a few bucks

above your head the wooden floors

hundred years old they talk to you of people

who spend their nights flushing toilets and cough

because they feel a change

in the barometric pressure coming on

it’s all a trick the keys the pockets

the coins the pens that thing

holding your pants around the waist

standing in a line to buy some food is bad enough

standing in a line to buy a book of stamps somebody

should go to jail for that as well as for that crazy curvy

stirring flesh out there all those slender bodies

so close and yet so far

I sometimes crave it and sometimes I just go in

and sit in my fridge

I know as much about love

as bugs know

about windshields

some flowers grow hairs and inconsistency

is not necessarily tragic

in Europe you can buy a switchblade without

asking cops for a permission

there’s no freedom bigger than that

you can keep everything else

in check with a push of just one button my eyeballs

I wonder what my eyeballs taste like eggs or meat

or something in between

it would be nice to steer a burning boat while singing

Dalmatian songs with nets swallowing everything to the sides

the best New Year celebrations are spent

in bed by yourself listening to the cities

bursting outside never never underestimate sleep

think of loneliness as the insufficient ability

to understand quantum physics

world wars and blindmen with IG accounts

the last one is reserved for them

all we have is only a hint every once in a while

like a piece of bread with a hook in it

and yeah I go ahead and kiss it every time it swings by

just like in a cartoon my heart the firecracker

explodes between my dumb laughing lips

and there’s a hole in my face

a silent hole that does not understand

red rivers

mad rivers

of starving fires hanging down

like broken lanterns in the wind

combed with tree branches and stale smell

of darkness and shadows and cement

freeway signs point to all the wrong directions

I haven’t punched anybody in six years although

I did kick my landlady’s cat yesterday

do they have toilet paper in heaven?

in a lifetime you will meet an astonishingly small

number of people who can be silent and not feel

uncomfortable for any period of time

exceeding ten minutes everywhere you look

so many of them are losing it in most ordinary

ways possible just like one loses a left sock:

throw the right one away too

the frozen mornings of ups trucks and crowded

coffeeshops they roll under my feet whenever I walk

among the people I feel like a fish

trapped in an ocean

where all water is lies

the bus drivers look carefully at a bus driver’s face

maybe it will tell you something maybe not

a pile of dirty dishes in an aluminum sink is a

most powerful metaphor of all times

I enrolled in college because I wanted to make sure

I would never end up on an assembly line

putting hairdryers together

I can’t stand the thought of a hairdryer

the medals are old and shiny and many

so I sit closed behind the door

death is a bush

in my head

the floor is all I can look at

I go to bed with my metronome

and listen to it for hours

I pull the batteries out

of smoke detectors

and I lick them

until they get empty

my attention divided

across four basement walls

eavesdropping on this

mumbling world around me

never never never being able

to destroy myself

completely

A PAUSE

blue mirrors wrestling

your mind is a butterfly

fed to the dogs

a hand reaches out

for a flame

and burns

earth plowed

with hatchets

hides

the blind

waters of sorrow

as seagulls shit

all over your windshield

someone is being flayed

alive on the radio

you breathe

a thunderbolt giggles

at pope’s hat

a gnawing coexistence of traps

cats with pencils

instead of legs

walk over your palm

handcuffs marinate

in a wineglass

eyes tattooed with love

the agony congeals

clocking out of a factory

at 6:30 am

the sun still hungover

snoring in the bushes

victory of a rabbit

violin and a chainsaw

one constriction

of the gut

works better

than any lock

soap in my brain

fat children jumping

vinegar dreams

smile of a pig

on coins

and fruit tags

six lane jam

on a Monday

afternoon

words like sulfur

rain crossing the street

with the skirt pulled up

music coming

from an empty

balcony

a coat in gloves

and socks and boots

with an umbrella

instead of the head

fishes crammed into tin cans

a night on a park

bench lasts

longer than

a night on the

North Pole

Strauss dressed like a mailman

horses playing badminton

hell is a rose wrapped in newspaper

parking meters at graveyards

conspiracy of toenails

threading a needle with smoke

train stations as absurd as the museums

attention span of a rooster

acquiescence to sympathy

feels like backing

into a water

hydrant

framing the scream with

wire and cotton and gasoline

eggshell reality

winds as sinewy as seaweed

the difference between

a man and a man

is the difference

between

a man and

a beast

pepper seeds boxing

festival of scissors

snails under your skin

and this universe

above me

cold

and dirty

from stars

*from Dario Cvencek’s debut poetry collection PTSD Martini

Photo of Dario Cvencek

BIO: Dario Cvencek is an immigrant poet from the Balkans. He started writing poetry in high school, inspired by his growing up during the Bosnian War in the 1990s, and his subsequent experiences as a refugee of war and an immigrant in Germany and the United States. In his poems, he explores the themes of war, trauma, healing, identity, gun violence, immigration, nature, and love. His work has appeared in literary publications and independent presses, such as Rising Phoenix Review, Ambrosia Zine, Gnashing Teeth Publishing, Ancient Tech News, Beyond Words Magazine, ANARKISS Magazine, The Split Mind, and others. “PTSD Martini” (Carbonation Press, 2025) is his first full-length collection of poetry. He lives and works in Seattle, WA. Connect with Dario on Instagram at @dario_poetry.