Vernal Equinox

The deep ground of Manolis’s poetry is an ancient music that is the source of all great poetry, and within the context of these poems the shades of Anacreon and Neruda are ever present.’

– Richard Olafson


Poetry, Ekstasis Editions 2011
Paperback 9 x 6 in
116 pages
ISBN: 978-1-897430-69-9
Buy Online


In Vernal Equinox, his third volume of poetry from Ekstasis, the Greek emigre poet Manolis is at his most intimately eloquent and passionately exuberant. As with Ovid, as with Neruda, the quotidian and the ordinary is transcended by Eros. The poems in this volume are taut, lyrical and informed by a powerful and subtle music, infused by un-sentimental directness and sensual precision. Working within the domain of consciously reduced perceptions, Manolis pushes language to its outer edge, locating the sayable within the shifting tumult of the real. Moment to moment the poems move through the world, rooted in a dark radiance and a luminous energy, charged with sensuality and grace. In the deep ground of being, love is woven through all life, and amorous love is but the tip of a powerful emotion—at the heart’s core, remains the mysteries of erotic love to which we all owe our existence. Vernal Equinox is an honest and expansive expression, linked by passages from Lorca, but imbued by a singular voice that is both candid and instinctive.




He stops shaving razor floating in air

hand absentmindedly creates a circle in mid-void

like a bird stilled by camera lens

her scandalous vulva visits his mind

from days of that August

on the scorched island

in low tone siesta

in muffled moaning

lest the mirror would crack from tension

in the cool soothing room

before his eyes

finger in circular motion of agony

swirling eroticism

higher and higher

near a shuddering apex

wind pandemonium

lust and a red colored

Lucifer laughs sardonically

as the razor touches his flesh

opening it

like hers

color reddish




After leaving our marks

on the sole lamppost

we parted


she to the west

I to the east


with a promise

to meet again


by this lamppost

and trace our marks


though we never thought of the Sirens

the Cyclops and the angry Poseidon


though we never thought of the pricey





If you didn’t get to the train station


at that exact time you wouldn’t


have met him you wouldn’t have


started dating you wouldn’t have


married you wouldn’t have


the twins graduating this year and


where would you be now


had you taken the next train?