Tovli's Page

Eclipse of the sun; NovaSibirsk, Russia Summer 2009--(photo) Y. Simiryan

In her dreams, she is always small, clever; capable of changing people’s minds with a minimum of words and gestures her tiny hands make while sleeping. Her mother appears in all her stories as a dying woman, curled… Continue

A Six Sentence Play

Act 1 Scene: Donald is depressed and calls home to let his mother know he is alive and well—but really, he is looking for companionship, purpose and an arena to express himself…

Donald’s Mother: (picking up the phone, she hears her 22 year old son say, “Ma, I… Continue

Răsări-va o comoară În adîncuri înfundată…from Limba Noastră--Alexei Mateevici


Where did you go? The sun has disappeared so many times I’ve lost count. Many people were carrying rifles the afternoon you disappeared, but I refused to load the little pistol you gave me, thinking you’d return quick… Continue

Over, Gone, Lost
—Sitting Bull


I paid an entire year’s rent, tucked the lease inside a Thanksgiving card and all I could say to them was “Babies smell like talcum powder and tapioca.”

“There’s an original thought”, she sneered, leaving the baby on the sofa while she answered a knock at the back door a… Continue

The house, hidden by the road itself, is surrounded with dark green elephant leaves, swirls of red flowers and a cement walk that ends, abruptly, against a solid wooden door. Every night as he returns from work, he worries he’ll miss his own drive way, forget where he lives and keep going. It happened to… Continue

Jiques' earliest memory was the morning sun casting a shadow on her father’s eyelids the day he was discovered breathless, lying near her bed, covered in quilts and crisp linen. As it turned out, all she would recall of the day’s loss was notepaper torn into many pieces, littering the death-room floor. O… Continue

One night, Segall was awakened by the moon. It is understood, when one comes eye to eye with a lesser light, taste and vision cannot overcome emptiness. Nevertheless, moonlight made his sentences slippery and he said things like, “It is lovely, even worthy to be with you; with you in this garden—my garden, yo… Continue

It’s raining and the weather is still warm. I want to say something very small, an umbrella of words that will make the sky into a ceiling. It’s how things end. It’s about houses falling into ruin, families without pastures and trees in their front yards and wondering what really happened to all who started cryi… Continue

“I love you the way you began; I’ll love you when you end.” She said those kinds of things and her long fingers wrapped over our forearms like roots in search of something unmovable.

We climbed on her oversized rocker to hear her read Black Beauty, shouting, “Ginger, tell about Ging… Continue

In memory of Moldova and all that was won and lost during the wars of 1992


“How old were you then? “

“Fourteen—Mama cried for days and when Papa disappeared I grew cautious and joined the other side. They offered new uniforms and a warm coat with a gold button that meant I co… Continue

It’s so convenient to remember certain things—small images that curl into the air and make you think of cigarettes and how the day might end. I told this once to our mother who blew unfiltered Chesterfield smoke in my face and laughed as I held my breath instead of coughing. When she pul… Continue

I watched her pass through the wooden community gate for the last time, astonished at how her ass became larger instead of smaller with distance. At the time, I was living in the hills above Jerusalem—the city you can’t talk about anymore and my apartment had a panoramic vi… Continue

(and in heaven there was silence. R. Shlomo Carlebach, z”l)

The airport has never been crowded because in Moscow no one thought we would ever leave. This morning, our lines are thin, but have no end, only a blue sky with many birds flying into a distant horizon. A s… Continue

The child was tiny and under-weight as though his bones were made from wet feathers. It took him a long time to kiss the stiffening hands of the dead women the soldiers had stacked along the road. It was Sunday, the taxi-cabs were running late and when one finally showed up he wedge… Continue

Gather now the sparkling stone,
Catching bright light from the sun.
You will see the endless flooding
Of new words that overflow.

from Limba Noastra



The way it sounded, the insurgents longed for a mixture of glory and chaos. It was the opportunity for praise and splendo… Continue

Мой отец перестал сказывать были;
все равно никто не слушал.
Он вещал слишком громко
Ища внимания толпы.
Перед смертью
он успокоил душу,
немногословно
без сознания и метафор.

Его шепот полон секретов
окутаннных поздней любовью
застонал в бурю.
Он звал меня близко глазами,
гля… Continue

Я говорю:
небо и ветер
жгут воздух,
пока он не исчезает
и целуют розовый туман
или слеза,
скрывающая в стене
дает волю солдату
велеть мне согреться:
закурить,
соломенные лапти …
все, что превратит убежище
в шерстянные или хлопковые кирпичи.

Я люблю белые,
гладкие скалы,
больш… Continue

By Tovli
It all started when the roof in the dining-room began leaking. It seeped into the walls, and every corner of the ceiling started to blister; the used carpet was like a marsh in the Peruvian Jungle—even the fish tank started to leak and we barely saved the colorful Algae-Eater a… Continue

I hope no one minds my using 6S for a non-literary reason--Dad passed away this week and due to weather conditions our family could not all get to one place successfully or in a timely manner.

So, here is our solution: We are asking all our friends and family to consider doing a… Continue

http://www.damazine.com/archives/2008_fall/proselyte_tovli_simiryan.htm

www.ravingdove.org

http://www.glimmertrainpress.com/writer/html/index2.asp?action=finalists

http://www.jewishmag.com/102mag/ester/ester.htm

http://www.jewishmag.com/127mag/story_yefimovich/story_yefimovich.htm