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Since the last morning of mine I gave you

Οι ωραίες παλιότερές μου μέρες

δε θα'ρθουν να με ξαναδούν;
Τουλάχιστο ας μου στείλουν τα χαιρέτια τους
που αργοπεθαίνω από τη θλίψη.


Ardor et glaudium

I flow inside you
as your own blood.

Yielding back to this authentic state of stand
as I reminisce,
kermes edges of the fingers
they almost glow
over the phosphatide eolienne.

A body ebbs,
down the stairs of my house
now getting tart as the floor.

Terrene nights
squashing the same sheet;
crackling constellations,
I did promise that I'd capture Canis Minor
for you.

As loyal
as abiding,
then quench its hunger
with my cortex.

As static
as gentle,
I will blear till it's all arid
and washed out.


Has it ever crossed your mind
that this is just where you might end?

That the last steps you take
could be where you took your first?

That the nights you spent forgetting
about which city you were in
that they could be as bright as your memories

will ever get?