Letters to the Road Scholar by Amy Ouzoonian


Amy Ouzoonian aka ami uzi is a poet, dancer, playwright, producer and visual artist of many mediums. She is the host of Uzi's Open, the editor of three anthologies of poetry, and the author of Your Pill, a book of poems. She lives and creates in Queens, NY.


Letters to the Road Scholar


2/20/09 3:00 am

When we are all connected
And our hands forget how to hold
A pen or pencil
The wealthy will telepathically communicate
And homeless people will give
Financial advice to commuters
Who wait for Friday and are not sure
What they make and who they wanted to be
When they grew up.


2/20/09 3:30 am

Breath can dictate direction.
Wake late, forgive the slow day.
Quiet morning thankful of cold air.
Shotgun apartment cries out.
The cat's delay, the diamond cutter
Brings hand and tool together
Thinks diamond and makes
Clean coal.
Chants enough and has nothing
Breathes in desire and



Androgyny offers comfort in its questions.
Like a misshapen flower that holds no purpose
Than to appear gentle with grace but offers no
Tincture, scent, or poison.
A poinsetta for its color, favored for a season,
Her sex is ever present but of no use.



Whatever floats your placenta.
A pedialyte spritzer or milk
From the devil's tit.
What matters most is always
Eating homemade children
Like your test tube used to make.
Cells spit out like
The knowledge that with or
Without another, change will not stop
You from pouring into
This world.



Yes sovoru em mom
I study the candle
Or sare mas
Day mountains part
Yes kartial kamir
I read red
Sirel aha Aprel
To love here is to live.



My doctor prescribed me ecstasy
For my diagnosed PTSD
And now I remember little
In my Feeliphiliac state.



Orpheo di Eurydice yawns at the inside
Square room, the patients stagger in
Their slippers sweep tiles, their chapped hands
Piled at their sides, it's time to wake
The crazy in this city.