Rustling
He was writing a letter to the Lord
about the loveless chaos
the aged, dusty landscapes
and as he was writing the page
slowly turned silent
until he too became
a thought of the Lord
aloof and weightless
like the light breeze
that blew softly
and took him along
beyond the fences.
The Path of the Poisons in me
I’m living in a cave since
I’ve been born, why, that I
feel like a wanderer?
And I’ve never even been inside
every nook and cranny and I don’t know
what is my job, but already
everything’s slowing down like a sailboat when
for a long time skips the heartbeat of the wind.
I wish I had at least a curtain,
to pull away when the nothingness
spies on me too shamelessly from the outside.
But I have a long way to go for the poisons in me,
well, this is only a sketch, words,
formed barely but instead of erasures
the hope that the day will come
when I can write it properly.
Manolis Aligizakis 