HEDONISM
A fleshless string of beads made of songs
I haven’t given you today
with the spells and games of a charmer
I’ll cloy you, my love
naked and like a vine I’ll climb
to taste your body that devours me
with my fingers I’ll conflagrate
the tender hairs of your mound
enrapturing wine and milk that soothes
to sleep I’ll bring to moisten you
with all my body drop by drop
and on your white sculptured legs
two vases that drive me crazy
my honey like a maniac, at last, I’ll ejaculate
REPETITIONS THIRD SERIES
Extract
From all we read, only that messenger remained
who was striking the bronze door knob of the temple,
not what he said nor what was said by the angry king,
who was moving his wide sleeves. Only the sound
of the door knob echoes in the dark rooms and
in the empty pedestal of the wooden statue
of the Deer Goddess, which stolen and
on the ship it now travels to Athens — the sound
of the oars along with the sound of the door knob.
Luckily, he said, we retain things like these,
consoling things, unaltered, united
as if we are unaltered too.
Manolis Aligizakis 