Category: March 2013

She cried a sea

and the ocean grew bigger

and bigger

And the journey at sea

for the homeland

became  more and more

remote

The navigator was pointing to the north

Speechless poet

only mumbling some Dionysian sounds

Primitive and universal

Bits of the noises i was able to understand

“Aggressiveness does not migrate, it stays where her roots are

Where the first grey hair rises”

The navigator was pointing to the south

Hot mad man

(despite the spring snow)

Reminding us about the time change tomorrow

Not the one predicted; the one that never existed

Something  I had never lived before i was able to long for

In the promise of time that would slip from the fingers

“Migration does not return; it stays where it went

Where the first facial wrinkles rise”

The navigator was pointing to the west

Innocent witnessing child

that others took her accounts for real

Trials and crusades happened at the momentum

Foam from the bottom I was able to clear out

and to become again; like history

Greek-ness does not die and this is her pity

The navigator was pointing to the east

Mumbling English poet

Any bits I was not able to understand

In the drunke-ness I thought I could distinguish “Του μωρού” (of the baby)

and while he was saying something about tomorrow

I said this coincidence of the words is the truth

As is the gap between them