IX
The harbour is old, I can not wait any longer
neither for the friend who left for the island with the pines
nor for the friend who left for the island with the plane trees
nor for the friend who left for the open sea.
I caress the rusted cannons, I caress the oars
that my body will be reborn and decide.
The sails only give off the smell
of the other storm’s salinity.
If I decided to remain alone, I seek
the solitude, not this kind of waiting
the shattering of my soul on the horizon
these lines, these colours, this silence.
Stars of the night return me to Odysseus and
his anticipation of the dead among the asphodels.
When we moored over here among the asphodels
we hoped to find
the glen that saw the wounded Adonis.

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Discarded Items
Years and years he collected other
people’s discarded stuff, undoubtedly
useless to them although perhaps
useful to someone else, time and
again, he has pondered on this, Thomas,
the retired garbage collector, who
hasn’t heard any news from his son
for the last three years and he knows
one day he won’t be able to care
for himself anymore, when that day
arrives, as it always does, they will
discard him in the big bin along with
the garbage of the old folks’ home
which has been his home now, just
to be collected by the lonely and
the dedicated mega garbage collector
the Almighty Thanatos with his big sickle
the unerring cleaner of our fair earth
old Thomas too did as he was told, he too
followed the societal rules, he too
led the life of the donkey, with his
short rope tied to a stick in the ground
he too never found the strength to
stand up and throw a pebble
to dare disturb the calm lake waters.

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GYPSY
Hellenes, chasers of Christians
polytheists, leftover relics
selected and accounted, you
followers of the Nazarene
populace guided by priests
shout, burn with light, curse
oh you, all idolaters.
None of you and none other
even the most wisest and
honorable will ever keep
the sunlight bestowed unto
you by its rays.
In the dark depths of the ocean
live some huge cetaceans
beyond the light of day, and
they see while the sun doesn’t
touch them, their bodies do
produce their own sun
phosphorescence is their foggy sun
that spreads a dreamy gleam
in the dark depths of the ocean
you too live like cetaceans.

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