A Goner's Doggerel

Doggone it Doomsday,
I told you he was one

Poetic son of a bitch
Doomed to go all the way

Entombed in the worse of verse
To his dying day.

It Stands to Reason

Just as that fledgling starts
To leave, its branch begins

An imperceptible trembling.

Vagrancies

A bed

Of crimson mushrooms
In the forest

.

In the clearing, a sea
Of blue anemones

.

In the wind, a gleaming copper

.

Penny for your thoughts.

Stalker

Coming

Alive or dying, we sensed nothing
But the haunting thought that told us

Something was wanting.

Making It Anew

--after Ezra Pound

At sunset,
Confucius say

Nothing new
Under the sun

But old lunatic moon
Set in way.

The Further Adventures of the Squint-eyed Kid

In this chapter, we discover The Kid and
his accomplice holed up in a "howling wilderness", picking off clunkers left and right.

Defying the Laws of Gravity

Easter Sunday 2010 at "The Milk and Honey House"

Yours truly looking as if he's getting ready to fall flat on his back during a dizzying, whirling dervish zeibekiko. A bit before this photo was taken, our party was pleasantly invaded by a trio of itinerant Rom musicians whose lively music entertained us until they had had enough food and wine (plus the obligatory "tip") to spirit them away to their next stop. Opa, manges!

This next photo I have aptly and lovingly captioned “Invoking My Muse”— Eleni demonstrating that some women are equal to men when it comes to dancing the zeibekiko, though some rebetika purists disagree, and insist that the zeibekiko was and should remain a dance performed only by men and by only one man at a time at that.