Greece: Six months after
A cog in the broadcasting industry;
I was there, and now, there is on my shelf
manufactured like a dollar candle unlit,
next to plush Athena and Phoebos,
books partially read, and 1500 pictures
last summer, good deal, had to grab it:
the candle, five dollars, the gods, five euros.
Art History is punishing
viewing where the footprints pressed with a flare of
nothing is more important
causing nostalgia intense as the airborne stone breathed under the Athenian sun.
Ahh!
you are evil if you do not long for the return,
as if the momentary mundane is as worthless as the ruins buried beneath the tourist-packed tavernas and the crowded walks of kiosks and corn roasting
Putting the Parthenon on hold for poetry
Mother put me back in, I dream?nothing is enough
can’t fit on a CD, but it’d be a nice experience
is temporary, truth is
forever catch the spectator, the cleaning lady, not the athlete, the exec,
move to Athens,
move to Mars,
if beauty is in the heartache,
you will be the happiest man on Earth and question your need for God.
now and here will never be again, you know,
but then again,
now will never be here,
anywhere.