Seventeenth Canto
Cup of steaming latte on hand
feet firmly staked on the ground of
my peaceful backyard mesmerizing
my brain at dusk’s mellowness
as heart of a sparrow struggles with
glory of evening mirage
thundering voice of the clock
defines borders in the game of
Hide-and-Seek before face of an evening star
appears renovating heaven into the
Furies’ playground they who always
run against light and in front of
a guilty heart as the primeval is
revealed with secrets of night
in thought shadow or memory pain
surfacing and celebrating
broken violin voices shrilling near
your heart as the chorus on stage
opera bufa in antiphony responds
with flaky understanding for a new
nail on the casket’s cover
preserving a dead aspiration
expected disappointment as
the kiss you blow my way stops midair
coughing its undecided direction
at me or toward the smile of evening
expected cleaner future dawns on
the backside of despair as tailpipes
ask ‘what now?’ and
charred blooms of magnolia
as if from purgatory answer:
we can do better
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 