twelve
Death and natural enemies
stopped you in your tracks
tens of gods you created
under the soil
and over it
and all the forests
that gave you life once
suddenly
you called black woodlands
oh, ungrateful forefathers
of the universe.
Archive for 08/02/2026
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19th of November
The boys grow; they put their hands in their pockets.
They hide a lead, dead little soldier in their pockets.
Their mother wears glasses each time she mends their
socks.
All mothers look gray each Saturday night and more so
on Sundays when it rains; because of this I perhaps
got sick. I sit on my hay mattress. Vasilis comes in and
lights the lamp. He’s silent. He waits. The sound of
uncle-Fotis’ worry beads is heard as if all the lights are
turned on one by one in the faraway houses or ships.
II
Troglodytes of the Middle Ages rise over
the headmaster’s imposing stature
with the golden, exterior richness
while the ancient druid’s ethereal
figure alarms all innocent peasants
who intoxicate themselves in bucolic air.
Stature tormenting the pious seagulls
as trails of blood ascend. Abundant
contempt for diaphaneity, kisses
and the light touch of fingers,
for dreams that reach the heavens
like unfolding crystal rose petals.
Wounds of the flesh deepen and
the sharpest stigmata of the clouds
whip the skin of the earth onto
which psalms and hymns chain
the stanzas into elegies: how would
the raindrops listen to their music
or the chamomiles would see their yellow
tear and how the yet to be born would
dance to the tunes of their forefathers?
Reminder
The room was in the suburbs, with a few pieces of furniture
like a Gospel quotation, so everything finished quickly and
Joanna cried and ran back to the station; on the other hand, it was
a secret that I could forget as I tried to mention it; then I opened the
violin case, and only sometimes when I grieve, I put on my tie
in such a way that they finally understand.
I’ve been hanging for a long time.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 