Ilya Kaminsky

@ilyakaminsky.bsky.social

www.IlyaKaminsky.com

This is how we live on earth, a flock of sparrows. The darkness, a magician, finds quarters behind our ears. We don’t know what life is, who makes it, the reality is thick with longing. We put it up to our lips and drink. ~ Ilya Kaminsky, ‘Dancing in Odessa’ (2004) #Painting by Miyake Wakō.

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1/2 Friends, while Russia keeps bombing Odesa Ukraine—as recently as last night—the city’s kids continue to write poems at Odesa Poetry Studio. So many of you have supported this project, so I wanted to share: young poet Mikhailo Solovey, is the recipient of Ukrainian Presidential Scholarship

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They killed a young poet on a street while a university in Texas forbids teaching Plato (among other things), and president can’t stop talking about buying an island that has no desire to be sold. That was the first week of the year in a strange country getting stranger by the hour, my Horatio.

Friends, I will be taking time away from social media for a while. Be well. Vacation Today I cannot receive you desperation, disappointment, tough legions of death. Come by some other time, never, and leave gallantly your business cards. Emil Botta, Tr. from Romanian by Liviu Georgesc

When our government is asking to spend millions of dollars on the unnecessary wall instead of very necessary health care plans, these words should be our rallying cry: "Move disability from the realm of medicine into that of political minorities" --Rosemarie Garland-Thomson

I went to college in 1997. My mother was a widow, a refugee, and couldn’t help me pay for it. There is no way I would be able to afford college if it was 2025 & the bill US Congress just passed was the law of the land. There are millions of people like me. What a shame.

Everyone is tired of endless images of violence—but if I don’t post this, who will? Since you won’t find it in most Western news: Russia attacked Odesa again, yet another assault this week. “A court martial of a city,” a friend calls it.

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Overheard: "Soon, bored with their i-phones, i-pods and other forms of "mini me" which they see as mirrors, and not forms of surveillance -- they will udnerstand: t o remember is to betray a regime built on forgetting. Memory itself becomes a form of rebellion."

overheard: "In a life-time of a regime, a moment arrives when vulgarity isn’t a personal failing — it’s a state policy. Kitsch is armor against ethics; it’s collective anesthesia, pumped through every glowing screen and marching chant.