Monthly Archives: August 2009

where albatross rise and dive

in the deep solitude of dream world
where scent of spring unmasks clouds
in the Aegean blue
where butterflies elliptical
fly into a serpentine stream of gold

with limitless steps to every climb
painting ethereal corral grounds
where sea Sirens sing Delphi oaths
seeking mirage of gods and goats
beyond the beauty to conceal
skin storm- driven passion play
of stone gaze and light images of lust and cla

Two Kores ( two girls)

you are veiling

my wind

pale voice still

of your unknown hill tops

movements and breezes

and summertime kisses

you stand and you hide your smile

your mona lisa pride

i touched your skin the other night

not by design just simple desire

in the white secret bay

my eyes have seen you lay

i paint your lines

in my trembling mind wishing your touch

and make you mine

the sun rays the wanderers

chromatic wings make

with zephyr play amoral games

if the wind was fabric

rose and silk blue would be

first spreads of western sky

the light plows across the sea river

giving red color of brilliance

waiting for the olive-eyed kore

blind with passion

a sudden stir of wind

the port as i gains its opaque modality of shrine

grow into visible beauty and

opened eyes of the dawn

Kore= girl

in the amniotic greek universe(streets,museums)

your glow has diminished in the eternal now
leaving behind a thin trail of darkness
that is more of a feel a smell in the night
and i barefoot i with my oracle kiss
with some thought of solitude without faith
that leads me outward to you like love
mystical and shy without any art of persuasion
a saint on my last grain of desire
into the chambers of museums
and dressing rooms of oracle like
tourist Apollo with your ivory Egyptian
sailor eyes now hanging on the wall
eats the jelly of the bull
searching for stoned prophesies
from the measured light
stealing the ancient afternoons
mute as fish angel of sleep
among gold tapestries of flesh
and you breath into my mind holy smoke
behind your eyes fixed like ivory holy ghost

on the top of this ancient hill the most mysterious
objects are still hidden by modern manners unnoticed
myths dramas of euripides and sophocles and the tourists
and the new modern immigrants walking as playing the chorus parts
but aphonous archaic reliefs with fast movements of the new land
our bodies before the music starts behaving
as small amniotic universes
and our modernistic sad spaces are not for real
so our hands have the same form without motion
our walking dance mimic our dramas and our looks suffer
more and more in this expressionistic theatre of life

Notions of Drowning

She lay beneath the blanket, fully awake —

another sleepless night

and she mindlessly counted

the drips of water as they gently

splashed into the bathroom sink.

1, 2, 3, (the number of times she

has given birth.)

4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, (the number of years

she has been remarried.)

10, 11, 12, (the number

of years since her divorce.)

and on she went until she arrived at 49 —

(her age, as of her last birthday.)

She closed her eyes and envisioned her days

as the seemingly endless drips of water —

passing one by one —

slowly at first, then quickly until one seemed to

flow into the other —

“the sea of life,” she mused —

until eventually, the “tap” would run dry —

a thought that more often than not, frightened her.

She lost count somewhere before 250,

then tossed and turned in her sleep

as notions of drowning invaded her dreams,

while she fitfully floundered to keep her

head above water.

eros anikaten mahan(cannot win eros)

like a forgotten work of art an ikon hang in a wall of flowers

left idle by time and social system in the open air monastery you are a

purified rose against my thorn of lust

corrupted by your beauty rituals

a stream of light you radiate

clothe me with grey looks of erotic eyes

shadow lips that have the taste and vision of sorrow

dedicated to the ancient virginity that speaks the silence of doves

and i escapee for island harmonies

taste your bitter lemons of sin

in love with the words that were never spoken

in the end of space where the blue light

phantom of mauve shadows lies

holy shy in the measured touch of night

and other forbidden dreams that feeds my ascetic mind

behind the mask of love , your mask of your Franciscan eyes

dark sonata

embedded in a total sadness
darkness
of sensuous apprehension
without love’s harvest
that makes the east wind blow
flowing away the images
that springtime will be dancing
from the static cold caprices
of winter arabesque music
of long melancholic nights
where the inner frame of soul
only dreams and suffers a greater silence
as I the poet of discontent will
sleep in the stuffed museum
dreaming of salmon- color eye beauties
paper-made virgins of thought
unable to paint the words of lust or
speak the motions of images
not yet seen visible
embedded in a total darkness of self.

__________________

sirens in the aegean

at the sunset voices of children were born
self-imposed loneliness in exasperation of
olive branches of coral wind to
translate the nocturnal purpose
of flesh and blood libraries with no books.
word and image smell dust and oregano
salty zephyr the force of confrontation
of the the distant symbols of life
underground tour de force lamented over the sea
acting deteriorating like a surrealist aesthetic poem
dissecting my mind
ablaze with light
nothing nothing i would give more of your embrace
amorous lover and even far away— in the light
anything that is left has minimum logic
how to win one life in the forgetting of eros
then love was the cloth of the soul and your solitude
your eyes windtornbitten sea anemone
seeking always never seeking my stigmatized body
that is hiding in your body crevices rolling and side-falling
and thirsty for the sight of lust
i make you i brake you
you make me you brake me
my mind wide awake, lucid ?lives every unhappiness
an ocean of nothingness
passes beyond all things, escaping
leaves my door open to all sins
and listens to the sirens of the aegean