Only Poetry

At present am much more moved by Modern Greek poets than I am by my pics of Krakatoa. I will post them soon. . .cross my heart. Am off again this weekend on another excursion. This one’s north to a place called Jambi in search of a jungle covered Hindu temple. . .the oldest Hindu temple on Sumatra. . .more on that too in the coming days. . .but for now. . .only poetry. . . .thank God for poetsxoxo

by Nikos Engonopoulous

Caffés and Comets after Midnight

the voyagers have come and gone

declared enemies of the same oblivion the same passion

loggers of the same desire

and stretching before them as far as the eye and heart can reach

are the same tattered black clouds

entangling their masts

rusting their anchors

softly whispering in their ear -with a bugle-

the same pain

as if an intense yellow

gold

had overspread this wretched black unhappy landscape

stabbed

by the drowsy glow of the electric lamps

the drowsy glow of a deplorable -ideal-harlotry

and the mangy camel’s half-asleep “che vuoi?”

is that a fact?

consider the impossibility

even the utter superfluity of crying out

and telling

all of this flame

eating up your insides

and you hold it

-clutch it!-

so firmly

so fiercly

so deeply prisoned

within you

you say the voyagers left

and came back again

broke the spells and loosed the hawsers

that bound them to the pier

¿wouldn’t

a dance of stately sorrow

best describe their

homesick

exaltations

quenched by the wave as it

sinks its fangs into

the net of disheveled pines?

pines disguised for one night only

only

to be given birth as comets?

a seabird arcs

its wings

“you”

-it says-

“are the new prophet

in the pit of your own lions”