An Essay on the Structure of the Human Imaginative

Excerpt

That which makes it possible for something to be is Being (ta oũsia,
τὰ οὐσία). Thus, from the various possibilities of Being, through
a process of union, the universe comes into existence, together with
the natural phenomena and the elemental forces of nature embodied
in the image of the Cyclopes–terrifying beings outside the ordinary
order of existence, possessing a single eye and immense strength.
In keeping with what was almost a universal characteristic of ancient
religious creations, the Greek pantheon was likewise consumed
by internal struggles for supreme power.
Thus, according to the Greek myth, Uranus, angered and made
jealous by the great power of his children, the Titans, imprisoned
them in the depths of the Earth, depriving them of the possibility
of ever again beholding the light of day. Their mother, Gaia, suffered
terribly beneath the burden she carried. She urged her children to
rebel against their father, yet fear prevented them from obeying,
save for her youngest son, Cronus. By cunning he usurped his father’s
throne. To punish Cronus10, Nyx conceived an entire host of
dreadful deities: Thanatos, Death; Eris, Discord; Apate, Deceit; Ker,
Destruction; Hypnos, Sleep, together with dreams and dark apparitions;
and Nemesis, the inexorable goddess who avenges transgressions.
These deities spread terror, discord, deception, conflict, and
misfortune throughout the world over which Cronus reigned.
It is evident that the first part of this myth makes no mention
whatsoever of a creation of an anthropomorphic kind…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763890

Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II

Long-listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

8
Therefore, when I kneeled so innocently, they all
thought I was imploring, although I kneeled
because it was autumn
or how else can I say it: the deadliest sin is not
to love oneself,
and one day, I couldn’t take it anymore, “Do you know
me?” I asked them, “No,” they told me; thus, I took my
revenge, and I was never deprived of the distant sounds
but don’t ask me what may be happening to the crazy
people: what else but that they entertain a child who
didn’t want to grow up and
since the dream books are old-fashioned, I emigrate
to the other edge of my umbrella, being an alcoholic,
and since it started raining back in the long-ago days
the smell of cypresses started coming in through
the windows like music that you guess its end while
the old woman was explaining the Resurrection to me
“He was afraid they could otherwise forget him,”
she said,
though for me, I prefer to hang a watch on my vest
than to hang myself; it would be as if I were trying
to explain too many things
exactly like a man could perhaps play a violin with
one hand, when he must save his life with the other
one
and I was so exhausted that when I observed myself,
passing in front of mirrors, I could only see
the unspoken word
and having nothing better to do, I sat and grew rich
(In their absence, of course, since they had all turned
their backs on me)
However, I don’t spend much, and I feel content hearing
the distant whistle of the train that makes the dog rise
like a man who places something in the tray
of the beggar
and yes, I know I waste my time and energy and
the pages I write get fogged up from room to room
and they’ll have a different meaning under the lamp
at night and in the morning, you will have
to get dressed again, only to feel pain again.
Goodbye, then, my good fortitude, I’m going to get
busy with my crazy men or talking about their shoes,
so uncared as if a hand that knew a lot more put them
on to them
and perhaps if I started whistling, everything would
turn out better
or if I wasn’t so prone to these things like the stupid
station master who’s paid not to let me travel or like
the poet who becomes innocent again after
a little sleep.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4051627

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676398X

Nostos and Algos

Routine
Same path every morning
from the train station to the office
two blocks of a walk, three
newspaper stands and halfway
two beggars
dark sky-lobe drenching them
as they strangely multiply along
with the days going by and the index
down for another day, gold
off the mark, the price of oil dropping
what to do with the need for
exhausts and fumes for
statistics that make you wonder
are we truly making progress or careening
brakeless down off-ramps to Hell?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763920