Archive for 01/03/2023

The Unknown

He knew what his successive disguises stood for
(even with them often out of time and always vague)
a fencer a herald a priest a rope walker
a hero a victim a dead Iphigenia He didn’t know
the one he disguised himself as His colorful costumes
pile on the floor covering the hole of the floor
and on top of the pile the carved golden mask
and in the cavity of the mask the un-fired pistol


Every night all things tumble into darkness, yet

the sound of their tumbling survives. This sound

is as it re-establishes everything anew.


next morning, in the freshness of dawn, among

the newly built habitations, among the light emitted

by the big whitewashed and yellow buildings,

             life stands

before the unshaven time, the way a woman stands

             in front of a man

waiting silently to be kissed and to be serenaded just

before she’ll give birth and start singing alone.


The footsteps of the lone woman on the upper floor;

Outside, in the courtyard, the last words of old men;

closed carpentries in the deserted squares of the county;

the vacationers leave; over the trees a deep light-blue,

tried, hairy, enduring. A sense of eternity remains

on the mouths of empty bottles piled outside

the fence of the country café and on the crates

under the vacant quay. A load delivered,

lightness of the void, spaciousness. A three digit

number written with pencil behind the door.


Από το Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο Ελευσίνας

Η Καρυάτιδα από τα Μικρά Προπύλαια [Α.Μ.Ε. 5104]

Χρονολογείται στους ρωμαϊκούς χρόνους (1ος αι. π.Χ.)

View original post 179 more words