ROMIOSINI
They sat under the olive trees in early afternoon
sieving the gray light with their big
fingers
they took off their cartridge belts and measured the
anguish fitting the path of night
how much bitterness fits in the wild mallow’s knot
how much courage in the eyes of a shoeless child
holding up the flag
Past its time the last swallow remained in
the plains
weighed himself in midair like a black band
on the sleeve of autumn
Nothing else remained Only the burnt up
houses smoldering
Excerpt
…because one switch was turned against the direction of the engines
and Mike hadn’t seen it. He felt as if that splashing of the stone in the
little pool sounded as if someone had slapped him on the face, and he
accepted it with forbearance and patience, like another lesson in the
work he was doing for the big train company. Mike suddenly felt the
need to hide somewhere so others couldn’t see him as he was leaving
with a lowered head as if he had been defeated in the afternoon battle
of survival.
Time flew, and eventually Mike went home, where he narrated
the event to his wife and son, who started laughing at the imaginary
sight of a train engine on the ground. Mike felt a little lighter, and he
too started laughing without knowing why.
The Lost 1%
Finally you turned me into yourself, my love!
Or perhaps I’ve been this way all along unable to answer the same way when they tell me “I love you”. Unable to say, “me too…”, or “I also love you.”
The phrase almost reaches my lips but is not stated.
To observe other men with that sad and full of agony glance, the one I noticed in your eyes for a long time, and not being able to answer.
Now I can understand what you felt.
I feel the same way.
Now, I know what it means for the other person to expect something from your lips and you unable to utter a word.
And it is not that you don’t love the person, it’s not that you don’t care for them.
The opposite, you care and you hurt more so. But that 1 % that is missing, that you miss and without it the word isn’t said.
That 1 % you know you won’t ever find.
That, as if you came faulty out of the factory and you miss something, what you’ll never acquire and as a result you’ll never be able to give it to anyone.
And you’ll remain like Sisyphus to go up and down the mountain with the weight of love on your back, forever searching to unload it and to offer it somewhere.
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But there will never be anyone to lighten up your load no one will ever walk along with you up the mountain and no one will ever give you a hand just to stop you from slipping down the slope.
Because simply you can’t grasp onto anybody’s hand you can’t grasp onto anything.
Stratis Thalasinos In the Dead Sea
…We are all like the Dead Sea
many fathoms lower than the surface of the Aegean.
Come with me and I’ll show you the landscape
In the dead Sea
there are no fish
there is no seaweed
nor sea urchins
there is no life.
There are no alive creatures
that have stomach
to feel hunger
that nourish nerves
to feel the pain,
THIS IS THE PLACE GENTLEMEN!
In the Dead Sea
contempt
is the property
of no one
other than the mind.
Heart and thought
congeal in salt
that’s bitter
they mix with
the mineral world.
THIS IS THE PLACE GENTLEMEN!
In the Dead Sea
enemies and friends
children and wife
and relatives
go and find them.
They are in Gomorrah
in the sea floor
very happy
and don’t expect
any message.
GENTLEMEN,
we carry on with our tour
many fathoms under the surface of the Aegean.
Manolis Aligizakis 