bitter oranges

I have been thinking in vivid memory
Of being alive in Lesbos with Kosta
And taking the long way home
From Mileas to Plomari
Through the olive groves
He wanted to show me the deafening silence of the mountains
And the whitest night sky I had ever seen
I stood for a while with my head leaning back
And in that moment I felt a sadness

An epigenetic longing
For the land of “sh’s” and “ch’s”
Where ali pasha is proudly preserved
Like bitter orange rinds
And served with a glass of water for dessert

Tucked in between valleys of bare karst
The undisturbed solitude makes the human body
Convulse into screaming hysteria
And desperate for shade
Wander to the old plane tree
Where barbas
Teach how to be masters
Of time, dice, coffee, and cigarettes


the spiral, the double helix, Da-Sein