Editions Nocturnes / My Turn

Do not move
Let the wind speak
that is Paradise
(...)
Let those I love try to forgive
what I have made

A good meal can somewhat repair / the eatings of slight love am, idi, already, panta, always, stin veranda prin enw twra, meta-derridiana And as usual feel rather sad(if/an) stuck in the middle with you kali mou fili, who "is on my side of the argument" enw egw tin vlepw kathe toso, al poco giorno / ed al gran cerchio d' ombraI think of all that has been said / About this faint desire ki akoume black rider kai den thymomaste an telika aftoktonisame ekeini tin mera, oute egw, oute afti, oute ekini tin mera, when they fuck you up - enw pas akoma kai trws mazi tous - and they break you and you break up, you smash your smashed mashed up self, only to iron it later, to re-member it Or mend our broken halves and promise that you will change, turn unforgetable since You are the author not the actor, at least that's how it cm, remembering also her who was giving me head on the unmade bed after she stood in my way, and even without bananas, or a poet, even though our rescue remedy, to comfort and reasure, is worth more Pound(s), parapanw TSElinia, she said, over tea and a flame box of matches, before she called, she spoke rather of Faith, Pistis-Elpis-Agapi, faith 'Nothing, like something, happens anywhere'
that things will work out in the end ...only see, through stailing tears / A quickly-spawning doubts
and of xmas lisbon and cats
in paris, with censorship
Clarity I have had sometimes,
I cannot make it flow thru.
A little light, like a rushlight
to lead back to splendour
of future dinner
parties and
deserts (and life saving honey)

Around, the night drops swiftly down / Its veils; does not condemn / O r praise the different actions done. / The hour that strikes across the town / Caresses all and injures none / As sleep approaches then