Copyright © Panayotis Skordos 
pskordos (at) alum (dot) mit (dot) edu 


19930301 My grandma

My grandma died a month ago,
I'd like to miss her but I can't.
Her life suddenly has ended
all she has seen and felt and learned.

Years ago, deep in the marble,
a different sky, a different sand,
she told me stories, she kept my secrets,
she gave me food, she held my hand.

We surfed the years, my nose got longer,
the world expanded, we grew apart.
But in the cave the beast remains
a little jewel, a little spark.

Her times were magic, forever secret,
her parents, her tears, her dreams, her heart.
She breathes the twenties and lives the wars,
she was a girl and is no more.

Crystalline waters and sugary waves
bathe her island under the sun.
Her life has ended, her spirit remains,
another light has joined the sun.


19980219 The little mare 

Down in the endless valley of time, 
a mare is galloping without a pause,
panicked like a deer with foam in 'er mouth,
and we on 'er back are riding along.

Old ethics, society, technology, tradition,
old languages, lost history, and savoir-vivre,
and the polychromous mare are running and running,
but why are they running, where are they going to?

Alas, the little mare has forgotten the way she came,
and is not really thinking what she's trying to find,
and is not contemplating that she might lose,
the way she goes,
the meadows so white she once cherished as a child.


19980220 Me and the theater

Every morning as I listen to the clock,
I get up and my costume I put on.
With a yawn and half opened eyes I walk.
When I arrive in my office, I'm awake.

Every day as I look at my colleagues,
with a friendly fake smile I reply.
No one cares for each other in our heart,
and the guiding light of all is our ego.

Every day when I come home from work,
with a great relief I breathe and I forget
the colleagues in my office and the acting,
and to be myself at last I now try.


19980301 His path

Slim, handsome and sensitive, the young man,
wise, with manners, educated,
degrees, publications and lofty dreams,
in the street now, a merchant, degenerated.

Commodities and loans, 
he is selling every day.
He calculates and subtracts, 
buys for less and sells it back, 
and in the end he profits.

And thus his life is rolling on, 
going further and further
and his path is unwinding,
and never coming back.

And the young man, 
now older and looking smart,
keeps asking, if this is his way, 
if he's coming okay.


19980316 Listening to the rain 

A little narrow road, the seashore up ahead,
under a window pane, in the corner,
the swallow sat quietly and listened
to music falling on the earth from heaven.

The wind was an exceptional conductor,
the rain swayed back and forth melodiously,
a little stream was murmuring the basso,
an orchestra was playing for one bird.

The swallow was staring in the distance
the clouds thickening and the blue sea,
its nostrils breathing in the smell of earth,
its heart sought nothing else but this.


19980319 Poem

A poet writing from his heart,
is like a swimmer naked in the sea.
But the words who always protect him
create waves on the paper and tints.

And when the storm has passed,
calm and quiet return, 
like a mirror,
they reflect the reader's self.


19980327 Where are we going? 

We lost a dog and we felt sorry,
but for society we don't worry.

The TV box is playing, it is our mirror,
like drugs it helps to fill an empty ego.

Next to a TV we grew up and learned to enjoy
the violence, the senseless sex, the killings.

And with God's trust we try to win, to acquire
endlessly, slaves of a system with no meaning.

And what we really lose each day, we never inquire,
the past, the present, the future.


19980402 Pyrofany

Under a sky of twinkling stars,
with company the saltiness and the dew,
a boat is sliding out the harbor,
her oars lullabying the quiet blue.

She's wearing on her bow a very bright light, 
so beautiful and attractive in the dark,
that all the fish desire it tonight,
and run beside it elated like mad.

And the sea's love is so great for the boat,
that she will give to her, her tender young,
to entice her --- the nice boat with the light ---
to come back soon again, and row in the dark.


19980531 Your own self 

I traversed the sea of time with your eyes,
and I often squeezed my heart when I saw you,
on a thousand roads, mountains and seas, 
sailing by yourself with one hope.

On a seesaw you were flying in the sky,
on a boat you were ruler of the world,
in a home you felt warmth, but you left it,
in a school you pursued fame and note. 

But you didn't find it and then you were disheartened,
and enslaved yourself for money in a job.
Now your only hope and company is a sail
in this foggy salty corner of the world.

Countless suns that have set long ago, 
friends and pictures from the past 
come to our soul, and a love 
that is endless, limitless, timeless and free
beats the relentless time and comes to thee.


19980609 Television watcher 

The time has come to hit the hay.
Don't stay longer, it's very late.
Do you enjoy, do you repose
watching TV with eyelids closed?

The silly box won't let me go,
it makes me dizzy with wily smoke.
I have forgotten what I must do,
I am narcotized, my mind is full. 

Close your eyes, close your ears,
envisage your soul a flying eagle,
look at your work, look at the world,
think of the time lost here and gone.

I'm only a corpse, I'm all very tired.
The picture and sound are leading my way,
they carry me off like a cork in a storm,
and to the rocks they throw me.


19980616 Youthful love 

Our hands holding each other on the seashore,
like blossomed leaves alone in the wind,
looking at the sunset and the blue ocean,
and I thought to give your hair a kiss.

Two trees were murmuring the sound of the wind,
and flowers were climbing on top of
a small rock that we sat on, as close as we could,
and I thought to give your hair a kiss.

The clouds in the sky were racing like mad,
the waves of the ocean were jealous to overtake,
the wind was on our skin a delicate caress,
and I thought to give you my first kiss.


19980617 Seeking dreams

Around this time, each little night,
I sense my thoughts swimming in me
amidst the time, amidst my life,
amidst the chaos, exploring me.

Around this time, each little night,
the stars above are leading my way,
to distant places they often take me,
to friends long gone, remote and away.

Around this time, each little night,
I ask myself, now, what do I do,
how was my day, what do I expect from me,
plans for tomorrow, wishes come true.

Around this time, each little night,
I close my eyes, I try not to see
my job and my worries to leave behind me,
in beautiful dreams I try to be.


19980625 Creative soul 

My secret love, my sin and weakness,
my godly food and water spring,
to learn, to explore, and to create,
nothing in life weighs more to me.

And if I lose it, should they steal it,
what shall I do? Without hope, without future.

Like a canary slowly dying in a cage,
like a shrimp taken out of the sea,
like a grandma who has lost her only daughter,
it's like this now I wither and in pain.


19980701 A hope in life 

In the sea storm of my life 
I always kept a piece of wood.
Under the rain and in the cold, 
I pressed my bosom to the wood.

When I was hurled on rocky cliffs, 
I saved the wood before myself.
And when I saw voracious fish, 
I climbed the wood and saved myself.

Only in calm and peaceful seas, 
next to the cherished wood I stood,
and if I didn't have the wood, 
I would be gone and sooner dead.


19980720 Alien

Feels like an alien wherever I go,
feels like a foreigner on foreign land,
feels like an alien in my psyche,
an alien I am on my father's land.

The world I knew has utterly changed,
the dreams I made, a cloudy sun,
today the yesterday keeps returning,
like a roaring beast returns to its den.

On a narrow street of cobblestone, at night
a slim silhouette is walking tip-toed.
Around the corner, it slips like a snake
like a shadow following me in the dark.

Inside a cave of stalagmites,
the water drops accompany my thoughts,
in here the time is no longer running,
in here an alien I am not any more.


19980723 Conquerors

And Great Alexander saw and marveled
for they had no weapons, no swords were in their hands,
but they had money, narcotics and freedom,
and in time the whole world was their kingdom.

Like an unsatiable fungus they spread,
and devoured languages, ethics, tradition,
old civilizations and indigenous people,
and in time the whole earth was a uniform mixture.

But were they bad, were they evil? 
In God we trust and want more money,
and have a secret that makes you money.

The economy is free and similarly society,
but life is too expensive and not unlike slavery.
The family is weak, and taxes are everything,
the nectars that we offer, narcotics and fighting.

We're the conquerors the envied, the conquerors renowned,
the rich ones, the powerful, the civilized race.
But who are they really, who are they?
No one knows.


19980806 Pasha 

I am pasha the great, and I will never marry
until a girl obedient I find.
I've always followed my will, I couldn't stand a boss,
I grew up in this world with competition,
only my little self, I could depend on.
That's how I learned, that's how I am, 
why should I change now?

The roles in the family I know very well,
for me to be the captain, the great pasha and boss,
to have a wife dear, and ever so sweet,
who fills the house with warmth, 
and knows how to retreat
in any conflict, 
because her heart and soul are stronger
than me.


19990819 My sun

How beautiful your hair at sunset,
mingling and flowing through the clouds.

How bright the light in your eyes,
a fire volcano, looking at me.

Shapes of joy, impromptu sculptures,
your hands reflecting on the sea.

Your breathing on my neck, caresses,
the wind over the sea, before the dark.


19990912 Depression 

Emotions so large, I can not stand them,
warm tears are flowing on my cheeks,
depression on a sunny day, I wonder
how my heart stood so much pain.

There high up in the sky I see a star,
around me I look and I'm alone.
The weight of my life is leaning and is heavy,
my elbow on the table, fingers and mouth tangly.

A childly thought ascends and gallops in the sea,
I quickly see a sun ray and suddenly I lose it.
My eyes are now blurry and reddening with blood,
it's rising like a fountain from my heart.


20000218 Union

Inside your heart, inside your soul,
inside the warmth of your embrace,
inside the moisture of your music
I want to come, eternal love.

Kiss me again, kiss me and tell me
that you also love me and desire 
for me to come inside your body
and be yours wholly, soul and heart.

Hold me and squeeze me in your bosom,
and let your softly skin embrace me,
and take me with you in your travels
to Paradise's secret hut.

With your sweet voice and caressing,
your hair, your eyes and your fingers,
bathe with light this love embrace,
this life's passion, immortal fun.

And when the sun has set the day,
and we have paused the music,
do not forget me, do not leave me,
kiss me and tell me words of love.


20010402 I will speak 

Like a golden silver snapper
fresh from the water I thrust,
to tell the story of a song 
lightly whistled on the beach.

A great passion and a yearn
from starry heavens to the earth,
I'm holding in my bowels,
a springtime flower to be, 
tightly blossomed.
I'm kicking to come off.

But all around me, bitter-toothed snakes 
have encircled me, 
and poisonous-sling scorpions and a fishy boss,
dark,
with a fake eye and a knife, he awaits,
my flimsy soul and foamy-milky blood to drink.

With pain I swallow, a suffocating choke in my throat
is holding back my tongue, and inside me is thrusting,
a wild beast, thirsty for freedom.


20010406 Spring 

The nymph of Spring whispered to me
softly inside my ear:
Wake up, wake up, it's me, 
I have come back, I'm here.

Carrying loads of blossoms, 
she passed the garden door,
and in the yard she sprinkled, 
butterflies newly born.

The nymph of Dawn opened her eyes 
innocent, green and dewy,
put on a bluish tunic 
and beckoned the sun to ascend.

Step by step the day warmed, 
the sparrows started singing,
and honeybees became drunk, 
buzzing and nectar drinking.

A flock of myriad swallows 
appeared in the sky,
and looked like haunted clouds 
dancing in the wind.

Knitting in the air 
shapes of sails and arrows,
they painted on the sky 
the new coming of Spring.

Then poppies came out on the streets, 
daisies pleaded their lovers,
and gardens overflowed with greens, 
jasmines, fragrant roses and violets.

And weeks went by transparently, 
the beads of time not keeping count,
until one day, Spring shed a tear, 
and said to me, next year.


20010409 Empty valley 

It rained last night, and it flooded,
and the ashes of the fire turned to mud.
Morning came and the air was acrid from the ashes,
and the clouds concealed a fearful sun.

A swarm of flies was passing by 
hastily moving unwaveringly. 
The earth was shaking and the soil was murmuring,
and the worms were instinctively running.

I sat on a rock to catch my breath,
and gazed at the valley, it was empty.
The bushes were growing larger and larger,
and the grass was uncut and spreading.

Two butterflies came near, 
but left quickly in disgust.
Black flames and smoke rose up in the sky again.
They lit the fire on the other side.

But in the silence
I heard the cry of the pig again
together with a gunshot,
and saw the cow splashing down
lifeless, and the tears of a sheep
as they dragged it to the culling pit.
The holocaust of Hitler did not die, 'tis now.


20010416 The day of a worm 

It was early morning May, 
and the worm awakened, started to stretch.
On the soil, it rubbed its face to clean,
and on a leaf, it sat to cool and rest.

Its eyes glimmered with tenderness and greed
as it observed the beauty of the earth,
and suddenly it thought: What miracle is this! 
my god and devil, I've never seen it again.

A day ago I was born, today I will end,
amidst the mist of flowers, amidst the tweeting birds.
But don't despair, tomorrow comes, I resurrect again,
there's great beauty in this world and I love it,
all of the past I leave behind, and now I live.

And what a joy, I met a neighbor, a belly dancer,
a female worm, I fell in love, I long for her,
we had a child, it died one night, but it don't matter,
tomorrow comes another day, I resurrect again.

Then came the sunset, 
the night lit the twinkling stars,
the worm lay down to go to bed,
pleased that it had lived another day,
its little soul, one with the earth.


20010420 Life of hypocrisy 

Everyone yearns for recognition, no one excepted.
What do the others say for our flashy hat
even if inside is rotten our sacred head.

We thirst for property and fame, devout hypocrites.
We step on anything and soon forget, 
for any illusion that fills seemingly the self-

  -important scientists hiding in a title cave,
authors and dignitaries walking like peacocks,
story tellers, power hungry politicians,

wealthy folks filling with glamour empty lives,
and poor folks who are proud of hard times
and wish to be somebody else insides.

And religious folks who have leaned on high floors,
"save our soul our kind lord", and good patriots
who boast of their great past and ancestors.

But the truth is we are nothing.
Everything is an illusion sliding hastily away,
and we, a vain memory on the earth,
out of soil we are made, soil we eat and resurrect,
and to soil we soon return, food for a worm.


20010509 Meditation

Up on a cliff at heaven's end, 
next to a sea caldera.
I'm sitting on a little rock, 
as distantly as ever.

I am alone and I observe, 
at the abyss I gaze,
and all around me is blue, 
thickly and deeply colored.

And while I'm looking far and far, 
my eyelids open wide,
and all the world reflects in me 
in a sweet embrace.
Who is this me, what do I seek, 
how did I come up here?

Sometime ago I had a self, 
a country and ancestors.
Sometime ago I had a god, 
religion, rules, possessions.
Now the sorcery's dissolved, 
and all is empty light.

Mother, where are you, I seek for you, 
who are you, I keep asking,
the earth, the stars, the heavens you must be,
that too I must be with you.

Mother, I fear by myself although I'm all the cosmos,
my umbilical do hold for me and never leave me alone.
But wait, my fear is fading, and with it I disappear,
my thinking was behind it all, and thinking was my fear.

What I learned, what I believed, the urgency of time,
my ego, my expectations have all quietly vanished.
The sun, the sea, the sky, the earth 
have all become one now,
boulders and soil are my blood, 
I'm no longer alone.

I am the shiny star of north, 
the seagull now flying,
I am the tree beside me, 
a little cat am I.
I am the wind that's blowing 
and tenderly caresses
these words that are arriving 
from far away to you.


20010808 My job

I'm sitting on a chair all day, on a desk,
and from the skin of my soles to my hair,
I'm like a faceless statue with no words.

The fingers of my hands embrace as if to pray
with an expression that is empty and vague,
and eyes that absorb the light around.

Body, space and mind are all one,
a thought inside me attempts to move,
but I ask her, why? 

No real reason, she answers back,
just like that, perhaps from habit,
and goes back down again 
and ends.

Papers and pens are on my desk,
a keyboard, a screen, the little mouse,
ah, and the telephone.

Around the windows are always closed
although they see far out the world,
and they shine light on my white papers.

I have grown old in this mean job,
I have grown old, and what for? 
Nothing but the paycheck.


20010814  An unrepeatable tango

Embracing alone on the sidewalk,
next to automobiles rushing by,
next to people watching with curiosity,
we're doing the tango and it feels right.

Night has come, and we are two shadows
swaying and mingling with the lights.
I see your eyes, I feel your body entirely,
getting entangled inseparably with mine.

For the duration of this tango, 
I know you love me.

Next time I come, I may not find you,
and if I find you, you will be different,
and our tango will be different, always,
meeting anew, as on a virgin night.



20020117 When I die

When I die, may they put me in a yard,
and sow the seeds above me of a tree.
And thus with time, the help of rain, and the worms,
on the tree's branches and the leaves I shall climb.

And when the wind blows my leaves away from me,
inside the soil I will submerge again and vanish.
And when the earth completely sinks, inside the stars
then I shall hide, an endless journey I will be,
I will be that which I was always from the start,
that and nothing else.


20020228 To the unknown woman

To the unknown woman I pay tribute,
for it was she, more than the others, who loved me,
for all those tender nights in her arms,
for all the lonely orgasms I enjoyed,

for she had no jealousy when I was dating another,
because she hugged me and honest kisses she gave me,
and didn't snore, she never pushed me off the bed,
because her heart was beating secretly inside mine,

and she denied me nothing whatever I desired,
and didn't tire gazing into my eyes,
and dancing endlessly throughout the times,
for she was always inside my thoughts,

and though she changed dresses and colors every time,
and though I never knew her name,
I lived her more than any other girl of mine.


20020302 Some bars

There are some places whose names I forget,
dark as the night with a candle, and air hardly enough,
brimming with mammals stooping to talk, ear to mouth.

There are some places where everything is crowded,
the smells, the breathing, the many beauties' hair,
the meat piled up one on another.

There are some places with rhythm and with smoke,
that are as popular as alcoholic drinks
because inside them, many of the fears are locked,

and the must-do's of the mind vanish
inside the noise and the darkness;
but I doubt the necessity of all this trouble. 


20020313 Eyes from Denmark

When time comes for you to leave, 
and travel back to Denmark,
the thing I'll miss mostly from you, 
will be your torrid eyes.

Perhaps your gestures and your words, 
perhaps even your dancing,
perhaps your slender silhouette, 
will linger in my mind.

But one thing I will not forget, 
as vivid as the sky,
is how you gazed plainly, directly into my eyes,
arresting momentarily all thinking and all time,
like a majestic waterfall, like a stark sunrise.

Was it the beauty or the depth, 
the calmness of your eyes,
the sparkling color, or the effect 
of all features combined?

I never knew or understood, 
it was a bit like magic,
and words are neither adequate 
nor able to describe.


20020315 The turn

Inside a sky, black as pitch,
with wind and hail falling,
they talked to us of fluffy snow,
but it dissolved in rain.

On top the whiteness of a cloud,
we built a safe haven,
but Zeus let out a yawning,
and we came down to earth.

With great studies and with dreams,
with hope and with knowledge,
we ran after a ship, in vain,
and then we made a turn.


20020322 The golden shoe 

There is a house in New York, 
bustling with warmth and life,
where people from all nations, 
join hands to live and study.
And in that house on Wednesdays 
there is a friendly party,
a ballroom dance, a great class, 
and then a merry practice.
And thrice a year there's a ball, 
with band, jackets and glamour.
And lo, behold, at such a ball 
one lovely day in Autumn-
H.R., the leader of it all, 
announced my name in a shoe,
a little little baby shoe, 
but it was gold in color.
I keep the shoe now in my heart, 
to recollect the smiles
of all the people I have met, 
and danced with at the house.


20020325 The stars of the cooking vessels

We're boiling all day in a pot,
and the journey of our life is minuscule.
When the temperature ascends high enough, 
we start our life suddenly and timidly,
and then we run from bottom to the top, 
where everything dissolves in airy heaven.

During our birth, we look like bright stars
twinkling in a background of silver.
And while infants, we crawl on the ground,
looking like polished pebbles in the sea.
During the long swim of our lives, 
we're often shaken,
going back and forth like drunken ships,
but the truth is, we enjoy dancing
and playing tremolo on the violin.

In ripe old age when we arrive,
on the mountaintop of a great trip,
we join each other irresistibly in love,
and afterwards we sail freely in the current,
vanishing suddenly like fireflies
with a last kiss and a glimpse.

Like this we are, each one distinct,
with a worthy personality and air.
But we have no selfishness,
because we know that we are one.
And thus we honestly admire each other,
and never suffer when we pass,
because we share our life and our fate,
and we are inflated with love to the brim.


20020328 The importance of the toilet

The toilet has gotten stuck, 
and what shall I do now?
I have been trying for three days 
to boil water and feed her.
I even prayed the jinx away, 
and gave her holy drops,
but she's remained adamant, 
as stubborn as a dog.

I am ashamed to say this,
my pride has been leveled,
but on her whims and mood alone, 
my sanity depends.
I have not eaten for three days, 
a proper meal. I'm stressed.
And you can see the reason why, 
she's on strike, it hurts.

I have been asking everyone, 
my friends, siblings and parents,
even the doorman and the man 
who works at the hardware store,
to tell me what's the thing to do, 
to give me their advice,
and all of them have pursed their lips, 
boil water and be kind.

And so I have accepted it, 
I bathe her and wash her,
and now I'm full of patience, 
I'm waiting for her birth.
And suddenly the sun came out, 
the clouds disappeared,
the sweetest sound that I've heard, 
a deep succulent kiss.

And thus another challenge passed,
and she's okay now,
and me, being hungry as a wolf, 
I'm eating the caboodle.
But from now on I always think, 
whenever I bite something,
crunchy or soft, spicy or sweet, 
that she will eat it too.


20020331 Badusalem

In famous Badusalem, 
the trees long lived together,
sharing the water and the sun, 
the soil and the heaven.

And they were kindred in the past, 
that's why they resembled.
If the facade were removed, 
no one could discern them.

But they had brains, they were smart, 
and they contacted a disease,
the mutant instinct to protect 
that grows selfishness and greed.

And they invented Gods and saints, 
traditions, laws, and ceremonies,
and they dug deep their walls of fear, 
to keep away the enemies.

And thus the trees started to fight, 
and soon forgot that they're one,
separatism fed on itself, 
became hatred, vengeance and blood.

This is Badusalem the war, 
between the trees that grew apart,
for thousand years it's been strong, 
and even God can see no end.


20020414 Celestial curtain

An afternoon in early Spring
brimming with dew and clouds,
I placed the Earth on my back 
and gazed at the heavens.

A lamp is lit behind a screen
creating curves and shadows.
What secrets can be hiding
behind this torrid curtain?

Images, thoughts and fantasies.
Inhaling deeply, I stretch.
Between my two heads, an avalanche,
mind and instinct are in a dance.

Look! There's a seagull flying
near the light. He's searching
to open the gate of the clouds,
he's overwhelmed and anxious.

This sky is like a pillow,
soft, and feels like velvet,
attracting me like a fire,
I sink inside and travel.

There, where the sun is showing dimly, lies the crater.
There, is the center of the sky, of all the world.
There, all the seagulls try to enter.
There, if you enter, you won't exit the same.

And so I became a seagull too, young and vulnerable,
and started my quest for the torrid curtain.
I traveled grassy meadows and mountaintops,
touched lightly over hills and curvatures,
and now I'm vanishing completely in the dreamland.


20020419 Argentinean moon

Lighting the horizon is a moon.
I extend my hand towards it, 
but can not reach it.

The way we're staring at each other, 
I see her eyes
conversing, and reading my whole being.

Like this, between the stars, we flew,
on top a magic carpet, 
with ring shapes, rolling turns and steps,

following the waves of a dream, 
with an accordion and violin,
and the Argentinean heat.

Like this, and for a fleeting moment
I felt my whole life was worth it.


20020425 The last milonga

When Charon the ferryman comes over to take me,
remember to play for me a fast milonga, 
so I can offer him my soul happy. 

On top my bed sheets, moist with sweat,
and while the fever is rising high,
and the old man's mind is reminiscing,

and every breath that still remains
is all so precious,
remember to play for me a fast milonga.

Like that I want Charon to find me,
with my mind dancing the milonga.

They say there is a Paradise in Heaven,
but does it matter? It's probably a lie.

Yet only a joyful milonga
with a beloved woman in my arms,
that was my Paradise.


20020505 Sundown instant

The disk of orange fire came close to the earth,
and just before it touched her, it stood on the horizon,
the way that a lover would pause to kiss a girl.

Time vanished, and everything seemed hanging in the air.
I stopped what I was doing too, and looked.

An eon seemed to pass in just one instant,
the sun appeared frozen as in a picture,

and suddenly I feared that everything might turn to gold.
Summon Orpheus, I called inside me.
Summon Orpheus with his guitar to sing along a melody. 

My boy, my happiness, come into my hands and rest,
tomorrow with your light, you'll save me again.

Then in a flash the sun did kiss her,
and softly hid inside her chest.


20021226 Closed door

The wind is blowing heavily outside, 
and shouting aloud,
it's knocking on my door sometimes, 
and asking me to open,
but I sit comfortably 
inside the warmth of my house,
and neither for a friend 
nor for a foe would I open.

A fly is resting on my window.
It's dying slowly
from the cold and from hunger.
A butterfly is also searching for a refuge.
The snow has started falling now 
and is accumulating.

A little spider took a few steps,
it was her fatal error, I saw her.
Now I must kill her, and in a hurry,
for she should not enter where she does not belong.

A jungle is my world and me a lion,
for only for my house I care for,
and even for a raging storm outside and the wind,
my door will always remain closed.


20030214 My friend

A cooling drop of rain,
the petal of a rose,
a warm summer breeze,
a sea-like embrace.

In a pothole on the street
the water was waiting for you.
The gardener whispered songs
caressing the layers of your blossom.

During the winter I felt lonely
and I was cold until I found you.
And a white pigeon flapped its wings
next to the sound of your kiss.


20030216 Friendly snake

A woman with large eyes and a pensive look,
wearing a web-like dress, both sincere and sexy,
a girl with a beautiful smile, legs and arms,
was all around me like a friendly snake.

Or was I the snake? 
No, we didn't say much,
yet we came to know and to trust 
each other through the dance. 

Hypnotized by the tango,
wrapped ourselves in an embrace,
we moved together as one body,

whirling and twirling,
and touching each other
from the cheeks down to the knees,

like two enamored dolphins,
following and playing 
in a sea of love.


20030220 My world

Every night I speak to you with yearning,
and every morning when I awake
my thoughts circle around you,
and to you they're always returning.
And you are my whole world, and my thoughts are you.

And all of my caressing on your bosom, on your arms,
on your head, and on your neck,
and all of my twisting around your legs,
around your pubis and your belly,
is the breathing of this life and the whole earth
that was built on caressing, kissing and passion.

And the water that runs tirelessly in the streams
and splitting into branches reaches the utmost peak,
with the hope to spread life into a new dimension,
passes through you my love.
That is why my thoughts are always returning to you,
day and night, 

with the sun sliding through the clouds,
on top the backbone of the sky,
and afterwards having melted from erotic love,
the sun jumps into the sea,
I think of you, and I am you,
my narcissistic world.


20030316 The sun that dies

Another sunset vanishes in front of my eyes,
immense, serene, and deeply red, it makes me wonder,
how many more occasions will I see the sunset.

But Michael D, my friend who left,
he can not see the sunset anymore. 
He was a distant and important friend,
and now dead, it seems as if he's closer.

And meanwhile I am listening to music of Astor Piazzola,
who is also dead and left behind him a music,
a magic walk on notes. I can not help but wonder
does Piazzola miss the sunset?

And when I'm dead, will I miss the sunset? 
Or being nothing then, I will have nothing to be missed,
or will I be the sunset, and Michael, and Piazzola,
and all the dead together ?

The night is approaching, slowly,
the words are left behind,  alone, 
the words of a mortal man who's still alive perhaps,
this is my motivation for leaving them behind.

Death is always with me, like the sunset,
a burning candle inside my thoughts,
that guides my life's journey.


20030408 Droplets

A quilt of silence from the sky
is covering the mountain.
The air is fragrant from the dew.
The sun is a white melted watercolor
behind the clouds, 
and the words are falling like the rain
into my thinking hood.

Droplets become entangled 
between the pebbles and the furrows of my memory 
and form candidate lines,
next to a bird inside a shrub 
that listens and is beautiful,
next to a grasshopper which is self-doubting
its balance on a green leaf.

Flowing over thirsty soil, 
they sometimes offer sustenance
for future offspring, 
and otherwise join the river
that slides over the grey-cell mountain hills,
passing through dense forests of oak, 
Platanus and tall cypress trees,
that stand maturely and majestically 
marking the road to the sea.

And thus the stanzas gain momentum
from the descending mountain trip,
and with a modest enthusiasm 
they start to dance
causing reflections,
shadows and waves on the surface,
and even stirring foam inside the canyons,
until they exit finally married into the sea.
Perhaps some day they too will become Platanus
trees on another mountain.


20030811 Lily

With curly hair, hawk-like black, reaching her neck,
a torso so feminine to drive you crazy,
with looks of innocent fire like charring coals,
she's slim and tall, with curves at the right place. 

Her words are very few, no conversations,
and her smiles are unexpected and strange, 
like someone who never learned to smile,
as if she's lived her life in fear and in pain.

It is a sour pain to watch her do the tango.
It is both a pleasure and a pain, a poison
to dance with her, to feel her yielding limbs and body
stretch endlessly on top of yours,
to give the best you've got, and start to hope,
and then she'll leave you on the fourth song,
with an outwordly thank you, and you wondering why?

Perhaps Lily does not like any man,
because with all of us she'll only dance three times.
Perhaps no man among us is enough for her,
because she prefers to sit alone and wait.

Perhaps Lily is herself a tango song,
always dressed in black and attractive,
with naked shoulders and back,
single and by herself, full of pain and yearning.
Yes, Lily is a tango song.


20030920 The tiger

Lit by a lamp of lunar light,
a shadow on the wooden floor,
a tiger silhouette appears 
carefully choosing his step and goal.

His force is disciplined and wild
ready to burst at any time
to satisfy an immortal instinct
that's hiding deeply in his innards.

His movement is inseperable from the sound,
the rhythm and the melody, one body,
as if the Tango is resurrected
picking up flesh and bones for an instant.

And thus the tiger vanishes,
there's now only music in our eyes,
and the girl that surrenders in his arms
transforms herself into a Muse divine.


20031206 A tango follower

You are holding me up 
like a precious stone,
that should fall on the floor
and break its bones.

You are swirling me around
like a wave in the sea,
that the rocks are awaiting
to splash into foam.

You are reaching around me
like an ivy tree
that should I ever invite
would pierce me.


20031214 Morning song

On some morning, oh how I want
to come next to you and sit,
to speak tenderly and softly
and to tell you I love thee.

I would like on some morning
to awake in your arms,
and to open my eyes 
seeing your face and your skin.

Like this morning I would like
all my life to spend with you,
having you as my partner
and then happily to leave.

How often have I heard it
such an old and wishful dream,
and to you I now repeat it
like a vinyl record ding.


20040201 At the drunkard's bed 

Day and night, the heart is awake,
and the brain is whispering songs,
while the body below is the base,
my worker, my butler, and servant.

Thirty trillion amazing cells,
bright starts of a faint galaxy,
grow old and die, and are reborn,
like animals in another cervix.

Every breath, inhaling, exhaling,
is an intercourse with the near surroundings,
like a whale who is swimming in the sea
of immense energy and infinitesimal drawings.

Lying still in my bed of grainy sand,
dressed in sea-weeds, kelp and alfalfa, 
in the cave with no wind that I hid myself,
I am smelling the everlasting calmness.

I think constantly of my female body,
and the experience of full-body contact,
the french kiss was our first meeting,
two protons hugged slowly and bonded.

My thoughts are incessantly mixing
the beginning, the roots, the love-making,
the ending, the meaning, the future,
at the bed of the drunkard a conversation.

And the drum beats along like a watch,
inside the arteries and veins like a wave,
is the pump that my mother gave me,
love and source of this life's energy.


20040222 The completion of the circle of DaVinci 

First you see a male body in a circle
like the one that was painted by DaVinci,
legs and arms reaching out and extending
until they touch the very end of heaven.

Then against him, see a woman equally able,
that defines a new shape and a curvature,
legs and arms reaching out and extending
pushing outwards the limit of the heaven.

Then with care you try to bend the two bodies,
from the planes to project them on a sphere,
then the half spheres become joined in a globe.

The left hand touches the right of the other,
the left foot touches the right of the other,
and their eyes are absorbing their two bodies.

The lips are ready to be kissed, ready to speak,
the male penus is erect and deeply red,
stretching like an arrow that tears through the air.

The female genitalia are inflated almost
like an imaginary earth, warm and sweating,
with a slight liquid drop under the hole,

and the beautiful breasts are bulging, 
with nipples showing hot and passionate,
yearningly inviting her partner.


20040223 A cold illness

A cold has brought me down, completely annihilated me,
and I have spent unwillingly my whole day in bed.
But in my head there is a voice, unceasingly shouting:
-- get up, go fly, go out dancing, go to the ball.
Yet I can not. I sense my body painful and heavy,
like the torso of a hundred year old.

Every sickness, every virus that attacks me
is a struggle for life or death, it is a war.
And this organism has been fighting for years,
always winning, and always paying a price.
And like a sphynx that is rising from the ashes,
it is en-thrilled and full of joy when it recovers,
then waiting eagerly for the new day coming.

But how many strikes can a mortal soul take ?
Every sickness turns the meter of a taxi,
and when there's no money, beware, behold.
A tiny virus, a bacterium that you can't see
will beat you, 
and it will steal from your inside, 
your precious chest, your breathing, 
and what you loved so much throughout your life,
your body,
will give to its distant cousins,
worms in the soil.


20040404 Contacts of Life

Inside a warm volcano, a lake, or a swamp,
the bottom of the ocean, or deep inside the earth,
complex chemical substances come into contact,
and form the first society, the cell.

The struggle for survival begins. The cells
are seeking novel partnerships and contacts,
and merge creating organisms, plants and animals.
Inside the jungle, complexity is on the move.

Living on competition and through cooperation,
the multifaceted contacts create animal brains.
Henceforth the human brain, with thirty billion neurons,
struggling without a pause to form new contacts.

A telephone is ringing, a book is talking endlessly,
new physical and intellectual relations are formed,
while cultures are evolving and traveling in time,
new theories and ideas are seeking the unknown,
and the computer lives, with eyes
that are staring at the stars and the infinite.


20040413 One minute that is gone

A minute ago I began writing these words,
a minute ago that has past and is now gone,
and is as far away from me as are my childhood years,
because I'll never be able to return to it
from now on.

A star that is escaping and entering a hole
created by a galaxy, with color black as coal,
and like an infinite flat box for savings,
that reaches the horizon, constructed out of steel,
that never can be broken, and thus is always closed.

Without any savings I'm looking at the future
approaching like a waterfall, splashing into the sea.
Let's go, do not stay still,
grab with your hands this moment,
bite it with your teeth and taste it,
and then, 
allow it to go.


20040801 Rejected

The beautiful rose flower that I tried to cut
became brittle and crumbled as I reached my hand,
and a knot of sorrow stifled my throat, my neck.

And thus my dreams became withered and were scattered
inside a park where the Autumn leaves are falling,
inside an empty park, where alone and lonely, I walk.

And feeling shameful, I became a drop of rain,
a small tear drop, inside a frozen lake,
a small nothingness, and forgot my pain.
	      

20041223 And there is light

A little baby arrived on the earth,
exploring life with excitement and thirst.

It smelled the air, it filled the lungs,
the sounds became louder in an instant, 

and an immense bright light enwrapped it.
It understood that it must shout to be heard, 

and soon the bright light became a friend
who knew how to recount endless stories, 

while dad and mom were taking care of it,
while body and thinking neurons keep growing 

and changing their connections without an end
in order to absorb inside them the whole world.