2 poems @ drunkenboat

issue 19 of "drunken boat" hosts "the orchard" and "in summer, he":

IN SUMMER HE

Salt on his chest and sand on his back
the sun wedged in his eye

all day he wanders
and you have no rest

A sun with heavy eyelashes
animal gait

*

He goes out walking on his own
in the summer noon

Dogs stop in their tracks
turn round and curl up in the doorways
Men shut up in their bedrooms
sweat in their sleep

His steps melt the asphalt

Women hear him coming
and close the windows tight
Children stop their games
Run to the shutters
They only see his bare feet

The city swelters in the sun
the walls are peeling

Its only freshness, he
– taking alone to the streets

*

I first came upon him a full moon
at the end of a passage
between two whitewashed walls –
the quick-lime, his shirt
the moon hanging above

The second time I met him
at the opposite end of that passage
shirtless and
with the sun on his head

The wall curved behind him
a huge palm
pushed him towards me
The way was narrow
I pressed against the whitewash
– he didn’t even notice

Third time I saw him from afar
walk on the asphalt
barefoot –
in early morning’s yellow light

The road skirted the rock
above the sea

Suddenly he paused
and started down the slope
–almost vertical– running
without grabbing onto the bushes

He reached the water –
he stares, hands in his pockets

*

Now nothing’s wanting –

a precipitous thyme
the thickly flowing heatwave
the water’s scales

The sea swells like a face
that’s holding back its tears

He stands he won’t go in


- both from my first book of poems, The lifesaver [To sossivio], Kastaniotis Editions, 2008, and both translated by myself and Stephanos Basigkal.

[photo: p.i., viii.2008 - from my ongoing visual diary]

poetry place, london

'Are you here for the zen thing?' she asked us outside of the 'Poetry Place'. We could have been.

But it was also 'Poetry Unplugged': each one -including my friend Chris Sakellaridis and 23 others- reading for a maximum of 5'. A healthy mix of voices. And so nice that T., C., D. & D., and -unexpectedly- K., C., and P. were also there. Read "A poet growing up" then "Burning candle" -the two poems preceding the last one in the Lifesaver- then "The orchard", that opens the book (in English versions by myself and Stefanos Basigkal).


Afterwards, we repaired to the nearest pub - a sweetly summery evening.

[Photograph taken in London, April 2009.]

the orchard / again

The lifesaver ['To sosivio', Kastaniotis editions, 2008; reprinted 2009] hit the water again:


The orchard

That man was meant for this one
As the sunken statue for the sea
the wind for the dress hung out to dry

Their bodies, earth and water
of a single orchard


But the wind tore the dress apart
– the stone is ravaged by the sea

The orchard though remains

Fruitless – yet every morning
finds its soil damp

The orchard waits



[English version by Panayotis Ioannidis and Stephen Bacigal.
The photograph shows a detail of Monika Zawadzka's print that adorns the cover.]

sailing in

On 3.xii.2008, the publication of To Sosivio [The Lifesaver] was toasted with red wine, thanks to the kind invitation of Kastaniotis Editions and the flagship 'Eleftheroudakis' bookshop, on Stadiou St., Athens.

the lifesaver

splash! [in bookshop sea]



[this print by monika zawadzka adorns the cover]

spring's treefellers

I like you because I don't know where I’ll find you

Always half in the light
the other half in the dark
–hesitating between
beauty and wonder
between yourself and your true face–
waiting for me to fall
to finally choose
the side that you also already know
but will only tread together with me

*

Darkness now gathers
around us love thickens
it won't be long before
thin bashfulness slips off you

*

Going back to your place at midnight
a young mother, dizzy
still drinking – face bruised
child in her arms
kept picking up his teddy-bear
from the filthy train floor
you said My mum would never do this

After we got there, I stroked you into sleep

Then with your body
spooned around mine
I was trying to fit in your slumber's embrace

Going home the next day
I saw in the street
spring's tree-fellers

*

Few hours later I'm already losing your face
I try to keep hold of likenesses
– the picture escapes me

Sometimes I manage
to assemble your smile
on the armchair's red cloth
Then I'm struck by two lines
descending bitter to the mouth
and then I think I've found you
on magazine pages
– staring over the shoulder
with a blue heart tattoo

And I ask when you hug me again
if you can recall me – you turn with that face
half in light and you smile
Ask me again when it's dark



[The english version is my own; the original greek was first published in 'Poiesi' literary review (v.13, Spring-Summer 1999), and is included in To Sosivio [The Lifesaver] (Kastaniotis Editions, 2008)]