Poetry Issues #1

Monday, 07 March 2016 20:07

So, Poetry Issues is out into the world! Nothing competes with paper but at least, if you can’t get your hands on a printed copy, you can still read the content of the first issue:

Job Search in Athens


Dreams die choked by job listings

soaked in strong communication and

numerical skills, overwhelmed by

excellent multitasking, tangled in

risk management drills.

Notably unadaptable

and lacking in combed manners

dreams cannot develop

concise and comprehensible content.

Completely uninformed on proper

social and business etiquette

and not client-oriented at all, dreams

die with near-native English

for a competitive thousand

to thirteen hundred monthly gross.

Black Cat, White Dog


Improbable friendships flourish

on freshly mowed backyard lawns.

Stencil flower fabrics host nightly

cuteness contests for a place

close to the lady’s painted toes.


We chase butterflies together

lick each other’s furs under the sun

in a mutually profitable agreement

valid for as long as you

keep your paws off my food.



They say we are Millennials.

That’s how they flatter

us, the Big Pharma Generation

of Seroquel and Ambien

Ritalin and Risperdal.


Where there’s a need there’s

a way, and now you can even

tame that crude, primeval kick:

Try Adderall – They say it does

miracles for lack of concentration.




Refugee Haiku


Now trending: The trade

of man-made pain washed upon

a picture-blue shore.




Repressed Tanka


Drunken you order

a Sex on the Beach and text

your ex to let her

know your blind date is coming

oh yes, she’s cum-cum-cumming.






when the sun



a soft breeze



the face of the earth


Published in news

Late Swimmers

Wednesday, 12 August 2015 13:40

They come from the sand, ready

in tank suits and floral caps

with territorial air and scorn

for those who waste time lying in the sun.


They are like sea turtles, from their sense of purpose,

to the color of their skin to their wrinkled everything.

They trudge on shore but then swim forth

in straight lines cut with punctual strokes and eyes

fixed on a horizon beyond the horizon, closing

for the nares to take in the waft of brine.


They keep swimming back and forth and never talk

counting silently, in a self-devised mantra mode.

And the October sea stays calm, nurturing

and warm – because it knows.


They are like sea turtles

only that their heads always stay above,

as their statement of dignity and manifesto,

and they always return to the shore.



"Late Swimmers" belongs to the chapbook In Womanly Fashion.

Published in poetry

The Final Statement

Saturday, 13 June 2015 19:41


"I have fulfilled my duty"

she said, and crossed

her hands to assert

her place among

the saints.


That’s what life was

to her: A service full

of humdrum tasks

she had to accomplish.


No wonder her children felt

like cheap porcelain dishes

left on the rack to dry.


"The Final Statement" belongs to the collection Checking the Exits, a chapbook that examines the themes of death, old age and terminal disease.

Published in poetry

Jasmine dream

Tuesday, 06 January 2015 02:14


Into the glowing land of vivid dreams

the winding roads smell of white jasmine

brought in by sirocco’s dusty blows

taking me back to abiding memories.


The winding roads smell of white jasmine

perched on whitewashed walls and open doors

taking me back to abiding memories

to romp and race with friends until nightfall.


Perched on whitewashed walls and open doors

lizard me waits for the cool of day

to romp and race with friends until nightfall

before the moon ascends the starbound sky.


Lizard me waits for the cool of day

squinting towards the far and fiery West.

Before the moon ascends the starbound sky

fearless, I will leap aboard a roving ship.


Squinting towards the far and fiery West

with a jasmine bud behind my larboard ear

fearless I will leap, aboard a roving ship,

into the glowing land of vivid dreams.


Published in poetry


Thursday, 28 August 2014 22:19

I’ve always found boats, especially lonely, empty, archetypal boats, to be fascinating. Something in their curves, solitary nature and transporting purpose touches me. I have even created a theme out of them. I usually avoid writing about my artwork but seeing this theme complete had a flooding impact on me.

Boats are like good poetry: Full of hidden meaning, connotation and denotation, juxtapositions and paradoxes, a metaphorical existence altogether, a passage, an economy of words and unparalleled melody and rhythm. My boats fill me with melancholy and hope, and a tendency to ponder upon the great mysteries of life.

Published in thoughts
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