20 February 2016

Listen up later

Later, later, later, much later, later.

There will be more, later

Later is getting later, later

Later will not accommodate the later

Because later doesn't come even when it's later later

And you know the ethilon later the cloaked later the stapled. 

Feats of later I feast on later fist of later

Mute later, no, no, not this, this is a later

Gift of later arriving later eeease of later is

Too to ease unhurriedly onto later

Junky does like some junk later

Mollify with later

Vein vain later

Wish I could help.

05 January 2016


One by one words lifted off the page to stretch out in front of me

each word life, 
a heartbeat, 
and each heartbeat your whisper

In my dream they transformed into images.

reach a bit farther
appearing effortless to keep

... as the canvas I once fell in love its beauty cut just enough 
I allowed the pain to remember the grace

Freely, as brushing your forehead 

weightless kissing 

With my fingertips

29 December 2015


My Translation of C.P. Cavafy's Poem Ίθάκη,
A Gift for G, a Modern Day Odysseus.

As you begin your voyage to Ithaka,
hope that the road is long,
filled with adventure, filled with enlightenment.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclopes,
the angry Poseidon, do not fear them;
you will never find them on your road
if your thoughts remain aloft, if your spirit and your body
brush against a finer emotion.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclopes,
the angry Poseidon, you won’t encounter them
if you don’t carry them inside your soul
if your psyche does not conjure them in front of you.

Hope that the road is long.
Many the summer mornings
when with pleasure and glad anticipation
you sail into unfamiliar harbors
or stop at Phoenician markets
to acquire beautiful things:
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
voluptuous notes of every type,
gather as many sensual aromas as you can;
may you visit many an Egyptian city,
there to learn and learn from scholars.

Always in your mind hold on to Ithaka.
The arrival there should be your purpose,
but don’t hurry your voyage in the least.
Best to continue it for many years,
and reach old age before mooring at the island,
wealthy with all you gained along the way,
and without expectation that Ithaka will give you riches.

Ithaka gave you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would not have sought to wander.
There’s nothing more she has to give.

And, if you find her poor, Ithaka did not deceive you.
With all the wisdom you have gained, all the experience,
already you understand the meaning of an Ithaka.

   Τhe Poem in the Original Greek


Σα βγεις στον πηγαιμό για την Ιθάκη,
να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος,
γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις.
Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας,
τον θυμωμένο Ποσειδώνα μη φοβάσαι,
τέτοια στον δρόμο σου ποτέ σου δεν θα βρείς,
αν μέν' η σκέψις σου υψηλή, αν εκλεκτή
συγκίνησις το πνεύμα και το σώμα σου αγγίζει.
Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας,
τον άγριο Ποσειδώνα δεν θα συναντήσεις,
αν δεν τους κουβανείς μες στην ψυχή σου,
αν η ψυχή σου δεν τους στήνει εμπρός σου.

Να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος.
Πολλά τα καλοκαιρινά πρωϊά να είναι
που με τι ευχαρίστησι, με τι χαρά
θα μπαίνεις σε λιμένας πρωτοειδωμένους·
να σταματήσεις σ' εμπορεία Φοινικικά,
και τες καλές πραγμάτειες ν' αποκτήσεις,
σεντέφια και κοράλλια, κεχριμπάρια κ' έβενους,
και ηδονικά μυρωδικά κάθε λογής,
όσο μπορείς πιο άφθονα ηδονικά μυρωδικά·
σε πόλεις Αιγυπτιακές πολλές να πας,
να μάθεις και να μάθεις απ' τους σπουδασμένους.

Πάντα στον νου σου νάχεις την Ιθάκη.
Το φθάσιμον εκεί είν' ο προορισμός σου.
Αλλά μη βιάζεις το ταξίδι διόλου.
Καλλίτερα χρόνια πολλά να διαρκέσει·
και γέρος πια ν' αράξεις στο νησί,
πλούσιος με όσα κέρδισες στον δρόμο,
μη προσδοκώντας πλούτη να σε δώσει η Ιθάκη.

Η Ιθάκη σ' έδωσε το ωραίο ταξίδι.
Χωρίς αυτήν δεν θάβγαινες στον δρόμο.
Αλλο δεν έχει να σε δώσει πια.

Κι αν πτωχική την βρεις, η Ιθάκη δεν σε γέλασε.
Ετσι σοφός που έγινες, με τόση πείρα,
ήδη θα το κατάλαβ
ες η Ιθάκες τι σημαίνουν.

Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης (1911) 

23 July 2015


It hurt; it hurt beyond hurt

Where does it go when it hurts like that
One pain with multiple names

Try to keep afloat – feasible for a while – illusions
And thespian supremacy
Eventually, things begin to chip in spots
Cracked china
How many times can porcelain be mended?
Instead, drift toward the shadows of your life
The haunted corners, catalogues of arid days:
You’ll come back they said, and it was truth.

Choke it into sediment
Some vapour, cold and cloudy
Will escape from memory

     To be distilled in dreams where he is smiling
     And I am happy.
     The earth is freshly tilled
     Upturned fertile land fields of fragrance
     A lone cypress overlooks

At daylight the vivid colors slowly bleach, I am awake.

But Venus is brilliant in the evening sky

One, two, flying low to ground, June fireflies.
Tomorrow will be very hot.
The garden is mulched and watered
I have a garden
The rose bushes trimmed after their first flush.
There was no mail I checked multiple times.
I’ve been wearing my straw hat it’s good protection
From the sun.  Sometimes I forget I have it on,
I wear it late into the night.
Half past midnight.  Going out to check on Venus gone

So late.  Where are you?
Strawberry moon, cloud swaddled moon,
Alight on the wings of heaven, sleep.
Tonight is 
Is alabaster is blind.

I stand marveling at the spear’s preciseness
Each revolt was ruinous
My alliances have been ruinous.
From the sepulcher 
From flesh and stone enclosures
I will salvage one memory – my treasured gift:

     The intimate whispers of a soft wind

All else can stay.

Now home is here
In any garden, any grove
A bed of kelp, bouquets of seaweed
A hearth apart from tooth and claw
The polished warriors
Do they know me that I exist still

I exist
Where reason and order evolve and modify
Here I stand, set free
I abide