3361 Orpheus
Catapulted a mind of tiles pellets icicle strips orbiting it speaks in signals and trills from nebulae reaches it broadcasts a satellite lyre that plays and replays your name alone a cyclone the palpitation of an army of broken transmissions plumed waves drumming against a pinioned silence.
List of Publications
- [φρμκ]
- The Books’ Journal
- Oubliette Magazine
- Sidekick Books (Fuselit, Birdbook II, Aquanauts)
- Tomarchio Editore (Poetry Collection 2020)
- Tears in the Fence
- Cyphers
- Montréal Writes
- Θράκα Magazine
- Neo Planodion
- Golfo
- Monocle
- Diastiho
- Ink, Sweat and Tears
My entry for the #ReadALetter campaign by Letters Live
From 'Κόκκοι', as published in issue #14/15 of [φρμκ] Διασπορά, autumn/summer 2019
* το νησί είναι αργό κι ακίνητο δε σαλεύει όμως συσπάται το πρόσωπό του από πένθος * με την πύλη ανοιχτή φυλάει την αυλή μια πέτρα φθαρμένη σα δόντι θεού * οι περαστικοί σταματάνε στον ύφαλο του χωραφιού κοιτάνε για ώρα τα δύο τυλιγμένα φίδια * στεγνός κείτεται ο γλάρος κι από πάνω δράκος πετά χαρταετός -μακρυά λέει η μάνα απ' τα νεκρά ζώα- το κορίτσι με το σπάγγο δειλά δοκιμάζει να δαμάσει τη σκιά που ο αδελφός κυνηγά
From ‘3361 Orpheus’, featured in The Visual Experience, 4th Edition by Davis Publications, Moving Poems and Nasimi Festival [in collaboration with Afrodite Bitzouni].
From 'Breccia', published in Poetry Collection 2020 by Tomarchio Editore
Mandrie
Comincia l'orologio significa che sei qui stanno a casa trasferimenti di memoria le famiglie semi che viaggarono Con ira gli dicono Impara Parlaci Mettiti i nostri colori Non dimenticare * Lui però diventò spaventapasseri di miele legno liquido il sonno degli uccelli sorridente felino di strada autonomo filo del tetto operatore di inceppate ruote Per cosa girano? Che cosa cercano di fare?
‘Plotlines on Air’, featured in Extending ley lines, a book accompanying the moving image installation ‘To a line‘ by Will Jennings, London
‘Eurasian Teal’, featured in Birdbook II, by Sidekick Books
Eurasian Teal You're not a colour you're a duck on seasonal migration. Not an ordinary duck ―a petite exotic eye-shadowed cousin― wintering here in a great greengrey flock a travelling troupe a team of dabbling synchronized swimmers. I'm not sure if as you pass you sing in a Cyrillic, thespian quack that dissipates melodiously in symphony across an evening sky of Hermitage colours or if you as the shamans speak in tundralect and snowpine speech. We must be but a brief moment in your schedule; an accidental stop on your splash tour of our Occidental theatres of water.
