Negligence (a collection of separations)

September 2013

They walked up the hill to the house. They held each other lightly as a final goodbye. They had said it already many times; there was no more courage to embrace the moment. No one was aware that it would be the last such one they would have. A someone opened the door, and he vanished behind it.

January 2014

Three in the morning with no sleep. The city had saved its best for today; sunny, loud, vibrant! They said no goodbyes, but set a date for another time in another city. She realised she was full; full of people, of things, of experiences, of memories, of reasons to come back. A few hours later, the plane took off and the city was now an air view from outside the window…

September 2015

There could be no goodbyes with him, no honesty. The unwelcome saviour, delayed and pre-occupied with other affairs, had no tolerance for emotions. Either people were running after him or they were simply fading; usually. She would have loved to be the exception, but his gift to her was to help her stop longing for exceptions. She left the city a grown woman.

November 2015

She hung up the phone, wide eyes to the sea. Her tears touched the ground and she refused to believe. She refused to accept she had just abandoned her, herself being so far away, forever alone in the world. She refused to realise she did not wait for her return, for a last goodbye. Last time she saw her, she was asleep. The lizard was not moving despite the lights and movement in the room. She smiled unconsciously and locked the door behind her.

December 2015

Timing has irony built inside its own essence. When she arrived, a white sheet was covering the bed. Last night he was just going to sleep. She touched the hand that was laying underneath, but left the sheet intact. Afterwards, she took the picture standing on the desk beside and put it back in her bag. Some cats were meowing at the garden.

July 2016

She held her tight, squeezed her tiny body in her arms. Instead of growing her acceptance for the situation after so many separations, it was getting harder each time. She drowned the tears in her eyes and she made the little girl promise her she would go to school. She let her walk away as if it was yet another evening.

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Mira fell asleep tired next to her sister. Tomorrow they would be going to see another house with their parents. They had to leave this place, before it would leave them.

The port was quite now. The arrivals and departures of the day were complete. But its people weren’t. They kept, dreaming or not, making circles around their lives, looking for something inconceivable, even so accidental.

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Wolf nights in Bucharest

My demons sleep quietly under the full moon now, but other nights they stalk and howl like the ghost wolves of Bucharest. The large boulevards are as deserted as many their lights are, and of all the nights tonight with all the remaining Christmas decorations and lit up skylines, it feels the darkest of all. Yes, the city hosts its strangers and the youngest the children the more the milk the greater the need to undo and become again. Far from the shiny boulevards, the sideways remain true to their darkness not faking any kind of virtue not looking for temporary saviours. The animals human and other lick each other's wounds and carry on the hunt of the night before it's too late for apologies and too early for excuses. For every battle lost a soul carrier takes over, becoming and rebecoming never undone never out of opportunities, the last hope of the damning and the damned. The wolves howl tonight, the c...

Windswept

The moon plays with the shadows of the caves hiding and emerging once from the mountain’s peak and once from the dense clouds; it also plays with me. The rain falls liquid and malleable, like the skies it comes from; it carries itself especially forcefully through the island’s irregular openings; the drops are heavier when touched and they stay. The crows have already moved – together but in distance – to find shelter, as the rushed waves wash ashore killed dolphins. I touch the drops to hold onto something or to wash off the horror. The horizon is closer than most nights and I cannot feel the land anymore, nor do I want to. The moon, fuller than ever, shows and goes; until the church bells ring the first hour of the morning. April – May 2026, Samothraki.

Έγκλημα στη Σαμοθράκη

Συγκλονιστικές είναι οι εξελίξεις σχετικά με το μέχρι στιγμής ανεξιχνίαστο έγκλημα στη Σαμοθράκη. Η σωρός του Μολδαβού επιχειρηματία βρέθηκε τελικά σε δύσβατο κομμάτι του βράχου Βρυχού, περιφερειακά του οικισμού της Χώρας. Η αστυνομία κάνει λόγο για δολοφονία, αλλά δεν έχει δώσει προς το παρόν λεπτομέρειες για τυχόν υπόπτους ή για τον τρόπο που αφαιρέθηκε η ζωή του θύματος! Ρίγος στην τοπική κοινωνία εν μέσω καλοκαιριού! Θα επιστρέψουμε κοντά σας μόλις έχουμε νεώτερα... Ο αστυνόμος Μακρής έκλεισε το ραδιόφωνο με αργές, σχεδόν θεατρικές κινήσεις. Όχι πως ήταν λάτρης του σανιδιού · μάλλον το αντίθετο. Τον επιβράδυνε περισσότερο η σκέψη της τελευταίας φράσης που άκουσε. Θα επιστρέψουμε κοντά σας μόλις έχουμε νεώτερα... Ήξερε τι σήμαινε αυτό. Το τηλέφωνο θα χτυπούσε σύντομα. Στην Αλεξανδρούπολη επικρατούσε πνιγηρή ζέστη. Ο απογευματινός παραλιακός περίπατος περισσότερο είχε αυξήσει παρά ανακουφίσει τη δυσφορία που ήδη ένιωθε. Βέβαια δεν ήταν μόνο ο καιρός. Στην πρα...

Unconcluded lasting

A shy rain drizzles across the sea almost involuntary certainly insecure. All these empty moments their quietness and the silent awaiting, an unvoiced hope that walks the earth in the morning and fades in the depths of the moon at night, a light that sleeps and wakes wakes and sleeps illuminating nothing at all. Yes, even the light can wither without care without a word or with just saying empty, muted words. The rain drops like gold liquid light trapped in particles unsurfacing an awaiting permanently silenced; an unconcluded lasting. February 2026, Athens. Photograph: Corfu, January 2025.

The Rain vocabulary

The weather came in showers like hours pass in tandem; horizons threw on us gale. I can't imagine a world full of sunshine, said the lonely soil; and opened its hugs to the skies. The windows licked the drops before the wind could carry them away; before they would turn into salt a freezing sensation of ice. The storm had only started; and ducks fled the lake like children flee a war. The river only tried to stand for a second or a moment; the river tried to say it was soon going to go away. October 2023, Athens & October 2025, Lesvos Photographs: contemporary (above) & ancient (below) port of Mytilene, Lesvos, October 2025.

The London collection of short poems

Lambeth / Waterloo Bridge The summer early morning hours smell of fresh cut grass and they come as hesitant as the foxes in the garden; how do I love walking from home to the world’s opening. Tavistock Square An evonym lets itself into the world blossomed and ready – complete and the world takes it instantly; and so I watch the world noticing you and you watch me and there’s some uplift and quietness in this moment that both soothe me. Bloomsbury A radiant cloud settles; all this rain – soft & undecided – transcends London and moves me north while the colours multiply. Trafalgar Square / Westminster Bridge There’s a whole life that with each strike of the clock crosses the bridge and shares herself – so openly; she does so quarter after quarter hoping the right someone will notice. Borough Market / London Bridge I surrender to the controlled chaos and people carry me and at times I carry some stranger, and as I let it all happ...

Vanilla & lavender

You always sleep breathing peacefully in your bed (ever since). The house smells like vanilla and some lavender and you are always sleeping peacefully in your bed (for over a decade now). You will always sleep no matter the flowers in the house no matter the hours that pass. November 2025, Piraeus.

Perceptual haikus

I. The truth gives itself in pieces; it floods my eyes & mind. II. A tribe of hooded crows pulls me back up; or do they plunge me further in the deep? III. A drop falls in the Aegean; the sea licks my wounds unfathomably. IV. Things I’ve known before their time; or things that have crossed their place? V. Fragmented souls flying as dandelions ; they whisper in the atmosphere their fragility. VI. This moon tonight burns transcendentally; worshippers of any kind turn to the sky quietly. VII. The horizon crumbles one star & a cloud at a time; I’ve dreamt of this before with my eyes wide open. August 2026, Samothraki Photos: top – the August full moon rises from the sea on Samothraki; bottom – a hooded crow watches over Chóra of Samothraki.

Inner ocean

The faster I pace the more often I forget to catch my breath. Rarely I catch a glimpse of the waves crashing against the medieval stone walls, or hear the meditating sound of this moment from afar; and history slows me down inadvertently. Does it take an ocean to draw my attention now? I remember noticing once a “day launching itself unaware of what is to come and what is slowly slipping away”. i Today’s day escapes my attention again… If I were to sit on that coastline bench, I would come to realise I ebb and flow, one day to another one life to the next. October 2026, between Greece & Scotland. i Poem ‘Brexit’ (2020): https://poetic-movements.blogspot.com/2020/12/brexit.html

Down the rabbit hole

I. In my dreams I fall off the plane. Underneath me is the dark sea the only source of light the night ferries crossing waters from known to the unknown. I never make contact with the water; instead, as the distance from the plane increases above me so does the reach of the sea under the more I fall the farther I find the sea. The next night I fall all the same the distance longer this time. II. My dream starts and starts and starts again and again and always but never ends. Bound to endless beginnings. Sept. 2026 Kr a k ó w

Poetic Movements

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