excerpt

THE TEN-YEAR-OLD boy launched himself from
the high diving board in a perfect cannonball
and exploded the water a foot from his giggling
friend. Marcie Welch blew her whistle, summoned
the pair to her lifeguard stand and banished
them from the pool for two days.
“Aw, Marcie,” the human cannonball wailed, “we were just
havin’ fun.”
“You can come back on Friday, but if you have fun that way
again, you’ll be out of here for a week. Go on home.”
As the hot afternoon wound out and suppertime approached,
Marcie gave three long blasts on her whistle and swung down from
the lifeguard stand. Children climbed out of the pool and gathered
up their towels. She walked to the low end, where Poodie was
shepherding a handful of his charges to the ladder at the edge.
When the last of them scampered toward the dressing rooms, she
bent to offer him a hand. He took it, grinning, and pulled her off
balance.
“Oh, Poodie, you……”
Marcie rolled into the water, came up laughing, and met a spray
from the push of Poodie’s palm. She seized his hand, then his
head, and dunked him. He swam away, turned and surfaced
behind her. She felt his arms around her waist and the power of his
thighs against hers. A trembling warmth infused her. She waited a
few seconds to push away in confusion and giddiness. His trickster’s
grin modified into the gentleness of a smile,

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08W7SHCMV

Orion
Your sin will always be more than enough
in the silent hospitality of earth
your evil thought will always harm your eyes
that you carry in your two hands
like broken street lamps
yet you’ll follow the path of the sun
guided by the hammering of water
that builds houses and laboratories
of gods in the sea floor
you’ll follow the path of the sun
accepting the advice of children
who direct flocks of shadows and thunderbolts
that you’ll have as a roommate the fairy
dressed in the morning shyness
that you’ll reign over
the fruitful earldom of October
hunted hunter
with the insubordinate belt
brother of my fear and my lust
and blood brother

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763408

Cop
In his new ironed, creased uniform
epaulets, golden diagonal band
proud like a young four-legged donkey
having a loaded gun in a holster, sealed
deadly provocation to the new cop’s mind,
bobby, pig, words used to describe a cop
as he imagines being in action when
the thief is caught red-handed and the cop
can draw his gun, power in the hands
of morons, such his thoughts as
he smiled at his idol preparing to appear
at the parade, in front of the naïve
people, in his hands the power
to absolve or protect, the power to
punish or to judge with the tool for
peace or war in the busy streets of
big city that relies on this young donkey
to do his job, to just act like an animal.
He too chose to hide his questionable
manhood and insecurity behind the mood
of the ambivalent and deadly weapon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763637

Ignorance
If you regard your shadow
and forget all things separate
what are you without your twin
but fading negative that
gropes for its essence
for meaning
what if you faced your glassy idol
that does not exist alone
leaving zeal to the passionate
image hunting itself
dejected when you go
wanting your regard
bow to your phantom
his vital shape
knowing how crucial
his lucidity

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073565

Gymnopaidia
Geologically Santorini is composed of pumice stone and china clay and in her bay…islands appeared and vanished. Santorini became the center of a very ancient religion where the lyrical dances were performed with a strict and heavy rhythm and called: Gymnopaidia
•
TOURIST GUIDE
I
Santorini
Bend if you can to the dark sea forgetting
the flute’s sound on naked feet
that stepped on your sleep in the other, the sunken life.
Write if you can on your last ostracon
the day the name the place
and throw it in the sea so that is sinks.
We were naked on the pumice stone
watching the rising islands
watching the red islands sink
into their sleep into our sleep.
Here we were naked holding
the scale that tilted to the side
of injustice.
Heel of strength, shadow-less will, calculated love
plans ripening in the mid-day sun
path of fate with the new hand
patting on the shoulder
in the place that was scattered that can’t bear any longer
in the place that was once ours
the islands, the ash and the rust sink.
Altars destroyed
and friends forgotten
palm tree leaves in the mud.
Let your hands travel, if you can
here on this corner of time with the ship
that touched the horizon.
When the dice struck the flagstone
when the spear struck the armour
when the eye recognized the foreigner
and love dried up
in hollowed souls
when you look around you discern
harvested feet all over
dead arms everywhere
eyes darkened everywhere
when you can not choose any longer
even your own death that you wanted
hearing a cry
even the cry of a wolf
you’re right:
let your hands travel, if you can
let yourself free from the unfaithful time
and sink
whoever carries the heavy rocks sinks.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

The Horse
This horse grazes at the faraway plain
raises its neck and sometimes eats my hay.
I have never seen it, nor have I met it
it’s plain
I imagine it’s I
and my happiness,
its trot echoing aimlessly
in my rich loneliness.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763653

Coffin
The coffin was lowered into
the dark abyss
sun regretted the arrival of dawn
the place should have stayed dark
especially today when the wind
stopped blowing, then it restarted,
alas, things needed
to carry on with life and
the boy caressed
the horse’s neck that
confirmed a future day
basking in sunshine
as though calling the future
before the future
casket lowered into the abyss
man inside it, rested and
the horse smiled

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763750

Apollo on Antigonu’s Medal
Of all his statues, indeed great works of art, the small
medal of Antigonus touched us the most — on it,
Apollo, sitting inside a trireme, seems to be concentrated,
at the same time absentminded and not as complacent —
perhaps because the tight space reveals his secret beauty
better and perhaps for this reason, naked, without his lyre,
in a familiar pose, it allows certain deeper encounter, even
certain flattery, perhaps, we too, naked like him, hide in
the foggy, confined circle of the medal — the beautiful
and distancing trireme helped to this a lot.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F9X3VPN4