Athena
See, how down we tumbled And the spectacle through and through Licked our faith We kept clear of the dogs Until our heart Hung from the howls of civilization All expansive hopes With the groan of narcissism Sank Into the graveyard of human limbs And nothing but shoes Remained . . . See, how the Kurds have brought Vagrancy To Athens’ portico And the whores of Albania Walk On torn and tattered veils And the tiled floor of the dead And drape the mottled arms of beauty-spots Over last century’s cabarets And set the lock What a strange dance! As birds With severed necks Fly Over the PKK’s wall And as patriots With broken teeth Spit And hatred and helplessness Form a brotherhood Ah— How I adore painting Yet at the same time I loathe Every kind of shirt As for the painters In democracy’s capital— Behead them Only their fingernails have been capable Of planting a flag in my heart Flag Flag All this color Is no longer worth nature’s glory The rainbow hangs from the gibbet And no color Has refuge In the arms of another Flaunting the residence permit Showers from its dawn With the kernel of hope Until the clouds In an astonishing assembly Form The image of calcified prophets And dream men All become believers Don’t ask that one to take my hand Don’t ask that one To gather my feet From the surface of the mire That one obeys their shoe (And the shoe will forever Madly Traverse The blisters and blood With an armload of firewood and beer) Until breaking See, how down we tumbled And my heart poured out From the hair of youth As one estranged My mother guesses you And you join in Her weeping over me O Freedom No one knew How they had To embrace you Next winter I’ll worship The forests of your song In the fireplace Next spring Zarathustra’s children Will kill him Like the new-year bonfire And I know nothing About you In one hand heroin And silver in the other I’ll go to the Omonoia Square And lay out my wares And tomorrow I’ll invite you To a game of billiards And order a debate For you Not knowing that last night In a road of darkness Tehran Has killed you And that in the morning The BBC Has licked Your wounds With measured ruminations If I lost Convince me To forever wear black And light two candles Upon my shoes
Athens, August 23, 1998