Continuum
Unclasped, it falls buzzing
like a wasp in a clean jar
unclasped from the underbelly
of the airplane
The bomb falls
wirelessly sending a message
to a computer that switches
into replacement mode
factory on alert for a spent bomb
button pushed, memory
card awakes
to build the replacement
absurd absence of sanity

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763769

Writer’s Night
What is a writers‘ night like?
Where does the bus leave from
which takes us on the road?
And when we get to one of them,
will he let us in or not when we ring the bell?
Should we bring wine or is the writer not allowed to drink,
should we bring music, cigarettes, anything,
can we take a picture of him with the smoke billowing in his place,
as he paces up and down like a caged lion?
Should we bring a book for him to sign,
should we bring our own, signed for him
or would that be a provocation?
Where is the bus leaving from?
Perhaps an omnibus, the wrong chariot?
Where are the writers, and
where is the night that leads us to them?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763645

V
We didn’t know them
deep inside it was hope that said
we had met them in early childhood.
Perhaps we had seen them twice and then they went to the ships
cargoes of coal, cargoes of crops and our friends
vanished beyond the ocean forever.
Daybreak finds us beside the tired lamp
drawing on paper, awkwardly, painfully
ships, mermaids or conches;
at dusk we go down the river
because it shows us the way to the sea
and we spend our nights in cellars smelling of tar.
Our friends have left us
perhaps we never saw them, perhaps
we encountered them when sleep
still brought us very close to the breathing wave
perhaps we search for them because we search for the other life,
beyond the statues.

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

The Commission
For years he counts infinitesimal
differences that always leave room
for his profit, slight gains perhaps
incalculable for most people though
very important to the money changer,
way of life for the expelled from the
Temple in the ancient days which he
recalls as re-counts and estimates his
gain, old Benjamin, sitting on his
stool with a bowl full of gold and
silver coins from various countries,
he calculates his potential profit and
contemplates the time when he’d go
along with his loot which perhaps
might buy him a better spot
in Paradise. Old Benjamin had also
missed the point of why he lived
his life to just do as expected
as he was taught by his wise teachers
and you said,
he too got caught in the trap of money
he too remained an insignificant
peon among the innumerable others.

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

As a child, I first met you on an uphill Phanari
side street.
A hanging lamp in the Byzantine Temple lit
your kind face.
Were you, I wonder, one of the myriad faces
that Constantine Palaiologos assumed and left
behind?
Boyaca, Ayacucho, bright and eternal concepts.
I was there.
We had passed through there to the old borders.
Far behind, they had started the fires in Leskovik.
During the night, the army climbed up toward
the battle
from where familiar sounds were heard. Next to
it, going down, endless busses carried
the wounded.
Don’t let anyone get disturbed. Down there is
the lake.
They’ll pass through here, behind the cane fields.
The roads were compromised: work and glory to
Hormovitis, who is famous for such things.
The whistle is heard. To your positions, march!
Come, dismount the horses. Put the cannons
in their positions, get a towel, clean the bores,
light fuses, hold them tight.
The cannon balls are to the right. Vras!
Vras, fire, in Albanian: Bolivar!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Secret
The great happiness
we wish to find
in the mysticism
of the olive grove,
in the moist autumnal fragrance
canticle of sounds flowing into
ears unaccustomed to beauty
there, in the light breeze
where the meaning of duty
was freely served,
in the mind’s serenity
we had for years longed although
unconcerned we wasted
in the wrong throw of the dice,
there was our hidden happiness
as we couldn’t understand
it was we who buried it deep
in the rekindled loss of memory
while our symbols became
daggers for the other man.

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

When you smiled I’d forget of the leaking roof tiles
I’d forget of the holes in the floor
I’d also say, here, big red roses will bloom
through these holes.
Everything was possible in the world, my love
back then when you smiled at me.
Remember that night when we gazed the sky for hours
I felt you trembling in my arms.
“My stars, I said, my good stars make our love so ever bright
make my beloved so ever joyous.
My stars, my good stars, make sure she and I die together.”
Thus, that night
we got married among the stars and forever.
Ah, I’d like to kiss the hands of your father; the knees
of your mother who gave birth to you for me;
I’d like to kiss all the chairs you touched with your dress
as you walked by
to hide in my heart, like a charm, a piece of the bed-sheet
you slept in.
I could even smile
to the man who saw you naked before me
to even smile at him, who was graced with such
happiness.
Because I, my beloved, I owe you something more
than love
I owe you the song and the hope, the tears
and again hope.
In the tiniest moment with you I lived all my life.
You knew how to give yourself, my love.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087367R7C