I like what remains. Like sediment, Ash and an echo. This is a forum to talk about that which remains.
Η πρώτη εκδοχή μια πάλη με την Ανατολή
Εκεί που τα ηλιοτρόπια ανακατευθυνονται
Και τα ελαιοτριβεία στάζουν άρωμα λιωμένης γης
Η δεύτερη μια σκέψη στο κρεββάτι
Και ένα τεμπέλικο ας ξανακοιμηθω με αυτη την αναβλητικοτητα για νανουρισμα
Και η τρίτη τουλάχιστον αν αποτυπωθεί κάτι θα μείνει από την αντανάκλαση και την Ηχώ
Του μεγάλου ονόματος
What is poetry?, he asked.
It is how people deal
With some kind of
Homelessness, she replied.
You tell me
Let’s go to the sky
And back
Let’s travel to the other places, far away
But the furthest I have travelled
Is beside you
At your bedside
She went towards the edge,
she looked over here, she searched over there,
she saw all the names on the boats
and the waves in people,
she looked up in the sky and these did not lit up
She flew towards the cliff,
she palpated all that she found over here and
and all that she discovered over there,
she touched all the meanings and the thorns
and the steps in the marsh
Only when she was ready to go
she saw their bright reflections
and she realized which ones were her own
real stars
Masculine soul
in a woman’s body
And aggressive “No”
meaning
Surrendering “Yes”
Strong “I am starting all over again’
hiding
helpless “I am dying”
And all my ropes
still looking for these roots
From generation to generation
Pride was all what these women did
All that
the undervalued women achieved
With the hoarse voice
and the loose trousers
sweetly torturing the body
With its memories
And the small breast
within its unsatisfying refuge
feeding with no mercy
Whoever homeless
is in need
of
Maternal masculine
Protection
sedimentary 