new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
I'm with you here, Vassilis. Please, enjoy the season, however fictionalised or otherwise it might be.
When the Oracle tells you to adjust your makeup -- either it's time to start worrying, or time to scale the red plush steps, close your eyes, reach out and humbly accept the statuette.(For "statuette" -- as you know, poets always speak by indirection -- read: olive branch, pomegranate seed, or what you will.)
To Elisabeth in warm, sunny Victoria and to Tom in sub-zero Bay Area California from a grateful friend in far-off Hellas: I accept these most gracious words knowing full well they come από τα βάθη της ψυχής (from the depths of the soul).
Vassilis,I recall the long uphill climb to the oracle's seat at Delphi, only to find--a hole in the ground.Ah, then I understood.
I can't see any hole in your reasoning. In the meantime, have a Merry Christmas, Conrad! PS. Gonna enter a name? Since you've been to Delphi, you might have an edge over the others.