Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Le bruit de tes pas Je peux rien faire pour toi, quand tu viens dans ma chambre. Tu sais pas? J’entends le bruit de tes pas quand tu m’approches Je ne te voix pas Je ne te voix plus, quand Continue reading Le bruit de tes pas by Mileva Anastasiadou→
Bowing down to an angel An old hermit has come to the door to greet me In long hair and a loincloth of leaves, he beckons me in “Seventy years in the desert and the only visitor an angel Delivering Continue reading Bowing down to an angel by Sofia Kioroglou→
Memoir in four sentences and ten chapters 1. 1.1 I was born, 1.2 In a happy family, 1.3 Attending my basic needs, 2. 2.1 In a beautiful home, 2.2 In a faraway country, 2.3 You hadn’t even heard of, 2.4 Continue reading Memoir in four sentences and ten chapters by Mileva Anastasiadou→
Between extravagant extremes Sophrosyne, a virtue deconstructed Humility in absentia more sinister than Lucifer’s advice pride goeth before destruction a deal with the Devil, a convenient abstraction Sofia Kioroglou is a Greek poet, writer and perennial traveller to the Holy Continue reading Between extravagant extremes by Sofia Kioroglou→
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Jerusalem The city of Shalem Jerusalem My Yerushalayim O’ Holy city, Holiest of all The land where Lord on the Mount of Olives I am saddened to behold Cut off the land from Continue reading Over whose acres walked those blessed feet by Sofia Kioroglou→
MY IMPS NAMES ARE ILLEMAUZAR PYEWACKETT he was a great poet i remember eating chili at the new college diner in state college pa reading bukowski i dont remember how i came to know his poetry imagine at thirteen he Continue reading My Imps Names Are Illemauzar Pyewackett by Vincent Zepp→
Poem for Ernest Hemingway and Jack Hirschman I travelled the country by way of graveyards and back roads the bones of outlaws and writers and outlaw writers piled up in mounds their ghosts walking the streets with us hand in Continue reading Poem for Ernest Hemingway and Jack Hirschman by Jake St. John→
The Free besieged His intuizione musicale totally new in the until then known art with a language, a map of a terra incognito of transcendental abstractions and idealistic notions His ideal was unfettered Greece the crisis still felt today the Continue reading The Free besieged by Sofia Kioroglou→
The old know and the young suspect The wind changed and blunted the song with its sally and rush. We see the faces left, mouthing nothings. A tune fades in for a beat on a lull in the wind, but Continue reading The old know and the young suspect by Christopher Hopkins→
Sundays only Metaphoric adjective, the what came first calcium carbonate encrusted embryo or a subspecies of red junglefowl cracked, content laid bare, either or salted by flesh juices of the omnivore, genus sus sliced, diced, cured and preserved fatted belly Continue reading Sundays only by Stephen Miles→