Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Exiles


The man had been posted, for the usual obscure reasons,

to a small fishing village in the remote south. The prefect,
stepping out of a closet full of women's shoes, greeted him
with the customary formalities. We are all in this together,
the prefect said, as he removed the man's
genitals and
tossed them gently to the others who had gathered below
in the square, and were howling.

(First published in Sentences, 1976, this overtly "political" piece was written during the brutal seven-year reign of the Greek junta (1967-1974). It was 1973 and I was in the tiny fishing village of Kotronas in the Mani, that once so inaccessible and desolate region made famous by Sir Patrick Leigh-Fermor's book of the same name, asking myself why I had returned to Greece after twenty-five years of living in the US.)

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Gone


disappeared—


the derelict walked right on up
the wind-

swept street round
the corner down

to where (he remembered)

the old man’s shoe-
shine stand

ran down.



Monday, September 28, 2009

Goldfinch

caught
red-

handed
branching

yellow
bird-

like
twig

light's
song.

(First published in an untitled slightly different version in Shearsman #1, 1981.)

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Guesthouse


After the sun's checked out,
Go into the empty room

At twilight watch the light
That's left drain out

The windows open
To the sea before you

Sink into the darkness
When the cicadas have

Wound down completely,
Do not look back.




Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Salamander

The "Milk and Honey House" in Meligalas has about five salamanders that can usually be seen popping their beady-eyed heads out of the stonework around early evening or so; they spend most of their nocturnal time motionless, glued to the ceiling waiting for moths or flies to come within range of their lightning-smart tongues and bam! no more stupidity till the next one's struck dumb. Somewhat like me when I found out some little red Salamander had one of my poems stuck on its tongue; thank you, anonymous little critter, and may you catch many more before the dawn comes.



How to Win Friends and Influence People in PoBiz


The Golden Rule:

Pity the poor, precious
Ordinary reader, poet--

Easy on the effluent;
Don't suck him in.



Sunday, September 20, 2009

Déjà vu


My god every time

He reached for the sky

To be saved, he was plumb
Gone over the edge before

He knew what hit him.


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