23

The first genome of religious wonderment

is coded in the DNA of man

the magician gathers them around the fire

are you, not the one

with imagination, oh Leader?
It’s someone else, there, you see him?

With stories other than hunting

he enchants them

with stories that haven’t taken place yet

about men who aren’t born yet

about men who haven’t died yet

about animals that talk

hey, why are you waiting?
He tells them about a gleaming god.

Do you listen to him?

Start talking before he usurps you.

Harry, or else work with Him.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676370X

Το παλιό και το νέο – Il vecchio e il nuovo

STROPHE

Moment, sent by a hand

that I had so much loved

you reached me almost at dusk

like a black dove.

The road shone before me

soft breath of sleep

at the end of a secret feast

moment, grain of sand,

that you alone kept

the tragic clepsydra whole

silent, as though it had seen Hydra

in the heavenly orchard.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513

Disguises

Among all the masks, he lost his face; he searched —

the red mask, the light blue, the black, the yellow; and that

purple with the golden evening star around the mouth and

eyes, and that one with the long, audacious beard; he used it

when he was ten years old, it suited him (and it proved true

almost to the point fifty years later); the other one, the white,

made of gypsum with the hollow eyes the cut-off nose as if

it represented his death; it relaxed him; he used it a lot; only

that dampness of the gypsum and the fine dust; he was afraid

they might get glued on his skin (oh, that, his real face) there

on the wall — where it is hanging; the sailor’s pipe got between

his teeth: he puts his sunglasses on— a deep glance, blind,

it stares into his eyes and encourages him to make a new choice:

the red again, the yellow, the light blue.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGX139M6

Κλείτος Κύρου, Υπό την επήρειαν 

White Thoughts

Apollo’s temple at Delphi shivered, fallen

leaves that always reminded me

of the autumnal tree rustle, wishes became

soldiers coming back from the front lines

in coffins laid like spent bullets

gravestones made of marble, abundant

whiteness like my thoughts, palindromic

mind between the sea’s punishment

and death in a chapel where I met

people kneeling for thousands

of years, steel lined against steel

war after another war hunger at noon

and hunger during the night as long as

their coffers were always kept full

there I met their hatred for the first time

the deep savage illusion that incised with

red letters in the wall of revenge

words such as: kill, destroy, decapitate

and I was raised in a Christian home

having the luxury of Christian piety

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKHW4B4S

Rejection

The blind man saw deeper I sat on the chair

They brought me some flowers I pulled off their petals A man

was locked up in the dark blacksmith’s shop

The beating of the sea on the rocks was heard from afar

And the bitch old woman threw our bread to the crows

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763076

Σκοπός – Purpose

Γιώργος Κοζίας, Ο ερημόκαμπος

7^th of November/evening

We spent Sunday peacefully. The boys played soccer.

I drew an almond twig on a wooden cigarette case.

Uncle Drosos must like it, I thought.

Perhaps he’d like a bird with an open beak.

I like to think of what Uncle Drosos might like.

I’m joyous and I have a sense of it and

that doesn’t stop me from being joyous.

The good moon lights my space and I can write.

I have made a friend of the telegraph pole.

I hear bells from a flock of sheep

That graze in the field. The sheep are

my younger brothers. I imagine a new fairy tale

with bitter oleanders, sheep, and a wild girl

with her goldilocks moistened by the moon.

Why am I still talking? Am I afraid?

I have to go for the mess. Good night moon.

Good night bells. Panoussis is peaceful.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TLBNFK