Category: USA

Why Armenia Can’t Survive Without Artsakh, an article by David Garyan

Ravenna, Italy


Why Armenia Can’t Survive Without Artsakh

In 2011, my cousin, Ashkhen Arakelyan, who lives in Armenia, visited Ankara, Turkey to participate in a chemistry and mathematics olympiad. At the young age of 26, she’s already the mother of three boys, and although it seems like parenting is all she was destined for, Ashkhen is actually a very smart individual. For her academic achievements she was recognized by the former president, Serzh Sargsyan himself. In the end, and for our purposes, it really doesn’t matter what prize she won at the olympiad or that she got to shake the hand of the most powerful man in Armenia at the time—what matters is the thing she witnessed during her journey almost ten years ago. Walking into one of the rooms where the competition was being held, she saw this “map” hanging on a wall—go on, take all the time you need; it shouldn’t take long, however, to realize that this isn’t really a map but an ambition, an ideology, a dream, even.

(Photo by Ashkhen Arakelyan)

Images like this are rarely circulated outside Turkey proper—and for good reason. If you’ve ever heard of the word “pan-Turkism,” you’ll probably understand the meaning of this cartography—you’ll understand why the tiny nation of Armenia is nowhere to be found in between the two aforementioned countries and why Artsakh is depicted with the colors of Azerbaijan’s flag—it is after all recognized as a part of that country’s territory by international law; it’s a strange thing, however—this so-called international law. What power does it have anyways when Turkey has illegally occupied Northern Cyprus since 1974 and that very same international community which tries to do Azerbaijan justice has been unable to punish Turkey for the very thing that Azeris have accused Armenians of doing—occupying their territory; that’s another point, however. Turks have a right to protect Turkish-speakers in Cyprus, but Armenians can’t use the same justification to protect their own in Azerbaijan simply because the “brotherly” countries have already committed a genocide against us more than a hundred years ago and they won’t do it again. Thus, we should simply return all of Artsakh to a country which has already been complicit in trying to cleanse our populace and happily receive the highest autonomy they’re willing to give us in exchange, along with accepting the promise that they’ll protect our people—if you believe that, I have four words for you: Talysh-Mughan Autonomous Republic.

The Talysh people are an Iranian ethnic group who are indigenous to a region that’s shared between Azerbaijan and Iran, a territory spanning the South Caucasus and the southwestern shore of the Caspian Sea. They have their own language (called Talysh), and it’s one of the Northwestern Iranian languages. While this is all good and interesting, the problem was that in 1993, the Talysh decided they wanted to be independent—so they seized some territory in the southeast and formed their own state—which lasted a grand total of 66 days; this is the flag of their long-lived republic. Nice, isn’t it?

All jokes aside, however, the plight of the Talysh proves that Azerbaijan can’t be trusted with protecting the minority rights of Armenians—a Christian people their own children are taught to despise in grade school. If they couldn’t protect the rights of a Muslim minority—the Talysh—they surely won’t protect those of Armenians; this fact is even harder to deny for the very simple reason that an Azerbaijani historian by the name of Arif Yunusov has himself revealed that school textbooks describe Armenians with slurs such as “bandits” and “aggressors.” In Russian he writes: “В дальнейших разделах учебника авторы все больше и больше внимание уделяют армянам, которые и начинают восприниматься как ‘главные неверные в черных одеяниях.’ При этом, в отношении армян также используются все возможные негативные эпитеты (‘бандиты,’ ‘агрессоры,’ ‘коварные,’ ‘лицемерные’ и т.д.). Именно ‘коварные’ армяне помогли России в покорении Азербайджана, именно в результате ‘восстания армянских бандитов’ в Карабахе в 1920 г. основные силы азербайджанской армии оказались оттянуты от северных границ, чем воспользовалась 11-ая Красная Армия и вторглась в Азербайджан. Таким образом, ‘неверные в черных одеяниях вновь сделали свое черное дело.'” And so on and so on, tovarish.

With my more or less functional Russian, I’ve translated Yunusov’s statement in this way, but you’re more than welcome to copy and paste the text into Google: “In subsequent sections of the textbook, more and more attention is devoted to the Armenians, who are perceived as ‘the main traitors in black robes.’ In this respect, all the possible slurs (bandits, aggressors, insidious, hypocritical, and so on and so on) are also used in relation to Armenians. It was the insidious Armenians who helped Russia conquer Azerbaijan; it was due to the ‘uprising of Armenian bandits’ in Karabakh in 1920 that the main forces of the Azerbaijani army were pulled from the northern borders, which made possible the Red Army’s invasion of Azerbaijan.” Can the citizens of a country who go through such a school system possibly protect the rights of Armenians? This is a country in which hate against the Armenians isn’t just a fact, but an institution.

Moreover, according to Akram Aylisli, an Azerbaijani author and the first Turkic writer to publish a story on the Armenian Genocide, “The word ‘Armenian’ is a terrible curse in Azerbaijan, akin to a ‘Jew’ or ‘Nigger’ in other places. As soon as you hear ‘you behave like an Armenian!’ — ‘No, it’s you, who is Armenian!’ — that is a sure recipe for a brawl. The word ‘Armenian’ is equivalent to ‘enemy’ in the most deep and archaic sense of the word, something like ‘Tatar’ for our Russian forefathers, an evil and an age-old enemy.” Well, it’s good to know all that the next time I travel there. Wait a minute—with the “yan” at the end of my name (a dead giveaway of my ethnicity), I don’t think they’ll let me in anyways.

Although there’s really no time for any asides here, I must take a moment to acknowledge the contributions of Akram Aylisli. A highly decorated author in his native Azerbaijan, Aylisli was awarded the most prestigious honors that President Aliyev could bestow upon a writer; after publishing Stone Dreams, however, a novella about the Sumgait and Baku pogroms, the People’s Writer award so generously presented to him was revoked by the very same president who had conferred it; but the state didn’t stop there—his wife and son were fired from their jobs and he endured countless instances of harassment.

I’ve stated many times before that it’s always the artists who make real changes, rarely the politicians. As Thomas De Waal, an expert on the region and author of the book, Black Garden, writes, “With the dispute still unresolved, it is too much to ask to have the leaders acknowledge their own side’s guilt for these episodes—as a Serbian president finally did in 2013 for the 1995 Srebrenica massacre. But both Aliyev and Pashinyan are actively obstructing conflict resolution by recycling conspiracy theories.” Indeed, this is also true for everyday people. For the Armenians all that matters is the pogrom of Sumgait, and for the Azeris they only remember the massacre of Khojaly.

Despite the existential danger Armenians face in Artsakh, international law has largely remained oblivious to the plight of minorities in general. The fact that bona fide independence is no longer so easy to win as it was before has something to do with the changing norms and attitudes about self-determination. According to Neil MacFarlane’s book, Western Engagement in the Caucasus and Central Asia, the international community, in the modern day, prefers to protect minority rights within the borders of existing states: “For better or worse, the West is committed to the attempt to address problems relating to minority rights within the context of acceptance of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the new states.” What does this signify? Well, that self-determination today has come to mean protecting the rights of persecuted individuals within the territory of an existing state, rather than compromising territorial integrity to safeguard the population—even a child can tell this formula is a little ridiculous. If the people are persecuted it’s because the dominant group hates them, so why would you expect the territorial borders (which are inherently there to secure the majority from invasion by foreign powers) of that country to protect a minority population residing precisely within the very boundaries of a nation that considers them “foreign” to itself?

As with almost everything in international law, however, which, after almost fifty years, hasn’t managed to kick Turkey out of Cyprus or prevented a single genocide, nothing really makes any sense, and this is just another reason why Oded Haklai writes the following in his own academic article—the title of which is much too long: “Thus, whereas self-determination provided the premise for the formation of new states on territories ruled by empires and colonial powers, in the contemporary statist world, the principle of territorial integrity checks the capacity of minorities within existing states to win independent statehood.” Again, all that’s good and well in the context of international law, but theory often conflicts with the facts on the ground. It has already been shown that Azerbaijan is more or less incapable of protecting minority rights, and should the Armenians of Artsakh give up their ancestral homeland in exchange for the highest autonomy, it’s almost certain that within a short time, Azerbaijan will “find” some excuse to intervene in the territory—any reason will do here, but let’s try this one: The Armenians are acting up, and in the interest of the state we must quash their “rebellion” which is threatening the existence of Azerbaijan; shortly thereafter, the government will “encourage” Azeris to settle the area and that will be all she wrote for the “autonomy” that an authoritarian state had so generously bestowed upon Artsakh Armenians. It’s not like Artsakh has the privilege of being Basque Country or Catalonia—autonomous states within a peaceful, democratic country, allowing them to be (relatively) sure that Spain will keep on respecting their rights, should they never attain independence.

No, especially after the murder of Gurgen Margaryan in Hungary by an Azeri officer whose name I won’t pronounce (my article on this), it’s especially evident that Armenia can’t settle for anything but full recognition, no matter how much that demand goes against the norms of modern international law. Why should Kosovo be allowed to secede and not Artsakh? In this sense, the international community is picking and choosing. Territorial integrity for Ukraine, independence for Kosovo, territorial integrity for Azerbaijan, and so on and so on. Perhaps, the Armenians of Artsakh could accept a deal in which they agreed to return everything in exchange for the highest autonomy possible—were it not for this map. Look at it again and tell me if we can really do that?

The image above will show you precisely what the ambitions of those two “brotherly” countries are; it will show you that Armenia is the last obstacle between the existence of an entire nation and the “fraternal” desire to revive the Ottoman Empire. Where is Armenia? If you don’t see it, you’re not alone, because in the eyes of Erdogan and Aliyev, it doesn’t exist. Who cares, however, what two dictators think? According to the Armenian Community Council of the UK, “Armenia is the only country remaining from 3,000 year old maps of Anatolia,” and even though two dictators would like to change that, they won’t wipe away our borders. They can’t achieve their goal unless Artsakh falls and they know this very well.

Take a look at the more modern cartography which depicts Armenia’s territorial boundaries precisely according to international law. On the left, you have the exclave of Nakhichevan (belonging to Azerbaijan) and on the right you have Azerbaijan itself; the tiny strip of land that separates the two is called Zangezur and it’s not difficult to imagine where the offensive to swallow up Armenia would begin if Artsakh were to fall. Look at this map and tell me how long Armenia can survive without holding on to the territory that neither exists in the eyes of international law, nor in the minds of Erdogan and Aliyev?

This is no longer a war about territorial integrity; contrary to their claims and assertions about international law, it’s never been about that. Why does the enemy need to recruit Syrian jihadists to fight for them (a fact which can no longer be disputed) if this is a war for their own righteous goal of territorial integrity? Do they really want to win it with the help of terrorists? And if this is really just a war for that aforementioned goal and nothing else, why bomb a nineteenth century church that’s situated in a place where no military or even civilian targets are in the immediate vicinity? This is the cathedral in Shushi before it was shelled. Do you see anything worth targeting around it?

Of course, Azerbaijan’s Defense Ministry has denied singling out the religious site, saying its army “doesn’t target historical, cultural and, especially, religious buildings and monuments,” but if that’s the case, what exactly were they aiming at and how did they miss it so badly?

Many often wonder why Armenians are so “hysterical.” They don’t understand why we amplify our grief beyond reason. They can’t grasp why we subject ourselves to suffering more than we should. It’s because very few people really understand our history. Almost no one notices the precarious position we find ourselves in, surrounded by rocks upon rocks, which are harmless, and two hostile powers with whom both our borders are closed.

One of the most important American novelists of the twentieth century, William Saroyan, wrote the following in a short story called “The Armenian and the Armenian,” published in his second book, Inhale and Exhale in 1936:

Saroyan was wrong, however. He died in 1981 and didn’t live to see Artsakh return to Armenia; Artsakh is Armenia—it can only be this way if we’re to survive as a nation. I know this statement will offend some people. I know that as someone studying human rights, I must be objective. I must protect the lives of all individuals. In my eyes, a persecuted Azeri must be no different than an Armenian in the same circumstance, and I’ll always believe in that; however, the loss of this territory doesn’t threaten the very existence of Azerbaijan, whereas Armenia’s survival depends entirely on holding it.

Many individuals I study with are afraid of speaking out—afraid of offending anyone, but that’s precisely what human rights work will require of us. If you can’t stand to be uncomfortable and risk making others angry, how will you ever protect the rights of those who are persecuted by a government that hates you for protecting them? No, if you can’t do that, then you shouldn’t embark on this profession and that’s why I must offend my colleagues at this time to stand up for the truth in which I believe, a fact which is captured in the statement made by the great Soviet dissident, Andrei Sakharov: “For Azerbaijan, Karabakh is matter of ambition; for the Armenians of Karabakh, it is a matter of life and death.” May peace come to you all.


About David Garyan

David Garyan has published three chapbooks with Main Street Rag, along with a full collection, (DISS)INFORMATION, with the same publisher. He holds an MA and MFA from Cal State Long Beach, where he associated himself with the Stand Up Poets. He is currently studying International Cooperation on Human Rights and Intercultural Heritage at the University of Bologna. He lives in Ravenna.



Tasmin Petrie to be interviewed by David Garyan

Tasmin Petrie
Tasmin’s background is in Spanish and Italian studies, in which she obtained an Undergraduate degree from the University of Glasgow. She is now pursuing a Master’s in History of Art also at the University of Glasgow, in which the focus of her current research is the deployment of ritual, healing practices and the occult as tools against patriarchal oppression in the work of Latin American women artists. Her research also encompasses rewriting the art historical canon from an intersectional feminist perspective. Tasmin takes a particular interest in promoting contemporary Latina artists and strengthening inter-cultural dialogues between Latin America and Scotland. Her most recent project in collaboration with the Latin American community is ÚNA Festival, a multidisciplinary visual arts and culture festival dedicated to fostering transcultural exchanges and highlighting the narratives of Indigenous communities from both Latin America and Scotland.

Ravenna Ravings, an article by David Garyan

Ravenna, Italy


Ravenna Ravings

Ever since I visited the residence in which Machiavelli spent ten years in exile writing The Prince just to get himself out of his dilemma, I’ve been asking myself a question I haven’t really been that interested in before: Is it better to be loved or feared? All my life, I’ve always thought it was the former power that was more practical in life, but during these past few months I realized the latter is definitely the quality I should be embracing; before I get too carried away with this, however, I would like to add that the argument I’ve just made only stands with the 99 percent, so to speak—the mass of “friends” and acquaintances that come in contact with you but ultimately make no real impact on your life; the argument, hence, doesn’t hold for the ones who actually love you, and, in turn, those very same people you love in return.

Throughout my life, I’ve met very few of those aforementioned individuals. In my 33 years on this earth, I’ve experienced true love—both in the platonic and romantic sense—probably less than five times altogether (not that I’m counting because the figure may be a little lower or higher, but, whatever the case is, it won’t be off by much); I don’t imagine my story being any different than what the majority of people have experienced, which really begs the question: How can an argument, which states that it’s better to be feared—all because the majority will take advantage of you the moment you let your guard down—make any sense when that very same line of reasoning includes the undeniable component that assumes those aforementioned 99 percent are also looking for something genuine and largely failing in their search? I don’t have an answer for that difficult question. All I have is empirical evidence, which might be true only for me—hell, it might even be the case that everyone else is running into these so-called “authentic” people all the time and I’m the crazy one, but that also can’t be right because of how much depression rates have risen (to an all-time high, at least for Americans, according to Newsweek), and also due to the way people often describe their own lives in negative terms.

Even as early as the 19th century, artists like Edvard Munch and Vincent Van Gogh were already depicting the perverse toll that modernity was inflicting upon the individual; the former artist’s works have come to embody the raving condition of humanity perhaps better than those of anyone else. Although Munch claims he was inspired to create the painting after hearing “a scream passing through nature” near a fjord, most people who view the painting don’t really see that at all. I mean, look at it—does that portray what the artist describes? “One evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord—the sun was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream.” Maybe it does. I don’t know.

For a more mellow impression of the depravity that modernity inflicts upon the human condition, it’s always good to bring in the great Vincent Van Gogh, who, in terms of his own personality, embodied those traits that manifested themselves so strongly in his work. This particular piece, completed just two months before his death is called Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity’s Gate) and unlike The Scream, there’s no terror—only resignation.

Well, anyways, enough kitchen sink philosophy. I’m neither angry, upset, terrified, nor resigned to fate—what I can’t deny to be, however, is cautious. Yes, I often drink a lot and laugh caution in the face. I say stupid things and forget stuff people have told me (sometimes I haven’t really forgotten anything), but don’t get it twisted—I never confuse carelessness with recklessness. Often, I even let my guard down on purpose just to see how people will act around me. I let modernity turn me into a madman but I never forget how loud I’m screaming or who is destined to hear my voice. And so, my supposedly rash and irresponsible nature confuses people, or, rather, to their very detriment, it doesn’t—in other words, they fail to doubt the fact that there’s something more calculated beneath the impulsive persona on the surface.

People are afraid of confusion because it’s the antithesis of clarity; they can’t deal with it because discomposure is like a sane man standing on the edge of the cliff, appreciating the danger he’s in, whereas clarity is the blind man right next to him, completely oblivious to the peril that makes up his surroundings; people, in most cases, prefer the latter. The world, however, is anything but clear—it can only be navigated with the help of doubt, argument, conflict, and anxiety. If the world was certain, there could be no faith because the very definition of the latter term implies a person’s ability to believe in something they can’t be sure of—prove that God exists and you no longer need faith to believe in Him. If there were no arguments or conflicts between people, there could be no understanding, much less make-up sex, because it’s precisely the resolution which we derive from tension that makes us happy—remove the antipathy and there’s no longer anything to solve or develop. There can be no progress without anxiety, friction, and even hostility, much less understanding. On of my favorite poems by Robert Graves, “In Broken Images,” talks about just that and is worth quoting in full here.

Besides their inability to deal with turmoil, I can’t tolerate being in the presence of people who say they can get along with everyone—that’s the quintessential sign of a person who’s unable to stand up for anything, much less for you. The people who attempt to fashion a society of perfect equilibrium, moving from social circle to social circle, thinking they can maintain this perfect state without ever upsetting anyone are the first ones who’ll withdraw their loyalty and commitment to you because of the fear that their position might make someone else unhappy. Fuck those people.

In my more forgiving youth, I could actually endure people’s mistakes much better, but as I’ve grown wiser, my tolerance has become shorter than the sentences Hemingway wrote when there was nothing exciting going on (when stuff was happening, boy, did he write some wordy prose, but that’s like talking to a real friend, I guess). Again, bear with me on the asides—all I’m saying is that every day I feel myself getting older, slowly running out of time, which is compelling me to take short-cuts with people, to test them, so to speak (not like a scientist in the confines of a lab, which is unethical, but, like a philosopher in the open range of society).

Now people will still say it’s unethical to “probe” people, to play games with them, and I agree with that; however, it’s difficult to function in any respect when the “game” is all there is—either learn to swim among the waves, or become the drowning man calling for a lifeguard on a planet that’s entirely covered by water; that’s society at large. Screw or be screwed. Again, however, there’s an exception. There are places on this magical planet where land exists—there are good people, but unless you learn the game of swimming, you’ll never reach these rare, remote places, and it’s exactly for this reason why I recently assayed some of the people I felt unsure about in my life.

These are individuals I accompanied to the emergency room, staying until 3 am; these are folks I did favors for, some of whom didn’t do so much as to offer me a drink at the bar and another who didn’t even bother wishing me a happy birthday (believe me—they were aware of it). As these people read the article (and surely they will), the all-too-important question will invariably pop into their heads: Is it me? In the end, they’ll never know for sure and it’s better this way because contrary to petty gestures, I won’t unfriend them on Facebook; I won’t ignore them in the halls; yes, I’ll continue smiling at them, and even shaking their hands, but the heart will no longer be in it. They’ll become ghosts to me—their presence I’ll feel but there won’t be anything “real” in it. There’ll be no more invitations on my end or offers to help—only the acknowledgement of their existence because, like apparitions, these people have ceased to have substance.

Indeed, I gauged their loyalty by acting in deceptive ways, but I did this merely to create the scenario which could give them the opportunity to display their forgiveness—to confirm the strength of our friendship after everything we had done together. I handed them that chance and they didn’t take it; yes, it was a “synthetic” opportunity but they didn’t know that. Indeed, I played the game, but it’s a game they play far better than I do. Their inability to forgive merely proved that they behaved no differently than I did—and what makes matters even more interesting is that my deeds were merely a masquerade designed measure their character, whereas their actions were authentic manifestations of their personalities.

It’s become quite apparent to me that people don’t really want the best for you; this may seem obvious to those with more practical personalities, but as someone, who, perhaps, possesses far too much of the traits that made Don Quixote so immediately recognizable, I’m probably just now starting to be the realist I should’ve been ten years ago. My life would’ve been much easier had I followed the advice not of countless philosophers who were preaching love and understanding, but of just one football coach—Lou Holtz—delivering some hard-hitting facts: “Never tell your problems to anyone. Eighty percent don’t care and the other twenty are glad you have them.” In my opinion, the statistics should be reversed, twenty percent don’t care and the other eighty are glad—the Germans even have a term for it; it’s called Schadenfreude.

Whichever numbers are correct, in the end, I’ve only realized this: The majority of people around me don’t want to be loved—fear is what they prefer and so let them wallow in their own doubt: Is it about me, or someone else? Strangely, at this moment, I have more respect for my enemies because, as already stated, they can be reasoned with, the tension between us can be removed, and subsequently friendship is possible, but friends themselves are capable of inflicting much more pain because they’ve received the keys to your thoughts, which no one else but you have handed to them.

As I look out into this cold Ravenna night, I know I’m not perfect, but I’ve given these people far more than they’ve ever returned.

What more can I say but quote a line from “The Wrestler,” one of the most beautiful songs ever written by Bruce Springsteen: “I always leave with less than I had before.” It doesn’t matter because I’m finally free—in the course of two months or so I got the chance to see the very depths of these individuals and had I actually made my way further down, I would’ve never been able to come back. In Beyond Good and EvilNietzsche made a relevant statement for our purposes: “Whoever fights with monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster in the process. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.” Well, I’ve stopped fighting. I’ve let my friends win. Let them believe they’ve gotten the best of me—that they played me. I don’t care because I’m free from their influence and I’m no longer allowing them to turn me into themselves. For them, it’s likewise better this way because their whole lives exist on the basis of such “victories.”


About David Garyan

David Garyan has published three chapbooks with Main Street Rag, along with a full collection, (DISS)INFORMATION, with the same publisher. He holds an MA and MFA from Cal State Long Beach, where he associated himself with the Stand Up Poets. He is currently studying International Cooperation on Human Rights and Intercultural Heritage at the University of Bologna. He lives in Ravenna.

“Perspectives,” a poem by David Garyan, published in Interlitq

Ravenna, Italy



Most people assume they will live into old age. I have come to see growing old as a privilege.
—Elliot Dallen

Elliot Dallen was diagnosed with adrenocortical carcinoma in 2018, aged 29. He died on the night of Monday 7 September, the day this article was published.
—The Guardian

First, the importance of gratitude.
And if you can’t be thankful
for what you now have,
remember to lock the door
and take your wallet—
someone without a home
will invite you over
for dinner soon.

Nobody should lament getting one year older,
another grey hair or a wrinkle.
Instead, be pleased that you’ve made it.
And if the color of your hair
is so important to you,
remember the kids
who never had a chance
to dip their brushes into paint.

So, be vulnerable and connect to others.
And if you can’t be honest today,
at least lie, but let your lie
tell the plainest
person they’re beautiful—
let your lie be so pure
even the snow will forget
it’s cold for a moment.

Yes, do something for others.
And should this day
bless you with no empathy,
donate to charity
because it makes you feel better—
let your ego be so big
even broken mirrors
will fear harming
those down on their luck.

I’ll be gone soon,
but humanity will still be faced
with the huge challenge
of reducing carbon emissions
and saving habitats from destruction.
And if, right now, morality
becomes too great of a burden,
clean the river today
as if you’ll die
of thirst tomorrow.


About David Garyan

David Garyan has published three chapbooks with Main Street Rag, and a full collection, (DISS)INFORMATION, is upcoming in October with the same publisher. He holds an MA and MFA from Cal State Long Beach, where he associated himself with the Stand Up Poets. He currently lives in Los Angeles and you can usually find him at his favorite hangout spot—somewhere on the 405 freeway.

“Sicily,” a poem by David Garyan, published by Interlitq

(Photo by Emanuele Ventura)


Interlitq publishes (“Poetic Voices” series)  David Garyan’s poem “Sicily”.


About David Garyan

David Garyan has published three chapbooks with Main Street Rag, along with a full collection, (DISS)INFORMATION, with the same publisher. He holds an MA and MFA from Cal State Long Beach, where he associated himself with the Stand Up Poets. He is currently studying International Cooperation on Human Rights and Intercultural Heritage at the University of Bologna. He lives in Ravenna.