certainly, most certainly, I have forgotten that friends and parents… no thing… no thing
they frame other friends and other parents and so on and so forth;

come, come: the resolved ambiguities of the present
safeguard against a merely dramatized inception, is that not so?


postcard 1: breathless woman incircled by damp gothic buildings,
2: red skyyellow housesblack water 3. viola da gamba

while, in borderline states you crave for all or nothing
you prefer to discuss yourself and that

in the manner in which that will imitate both you and itself!

nevertheless, you cannot find an escape from atonal reality
(a bosanova sway for your brimming eyes)

with a redemptive rhythm: you will be wounded unless
you contribute to the highest art of the open ended

where you do not wish for the poem to come to an end
but for it to come as it goes in a perpetual ending

to circulate as a hologram in your garden
gathering dendrites from matter and anti-matter invariably well watered!

poetry cannot be only whatever evades the word:

(your extremities have already begun to paralyze
the unaesthetic a river flooding you

while everything around you becomes curved your missiles are parabolas

for you to see to say to do to make appear the final vision
that you do not have time to inscribe

— your dislodged self next to you dismayed
watches you fade away and simply whispers:

“forgive me but it’s not my fault that we are part of some other part
and that you inhabit this naïve reality

you bred your mystery and brought it to fruition”

to state it face to face would be absurd: don’t say it:
that we, poets (what we? what poets? be that as it may)

bear reality inscribed in our nether parts[…]



The poems möbius, 0→1, ♪,  O2 belong to poetry collection Bella Boom (Publibook 2011) and have also been published in Hellenica: Novelty Within or Beyond Language: Anthology of Young Greek Poets, (Athens: Gavriilidis, 2009)