Kevin Conder

the hills are full of olives rotting
on the ground

the ocean clanks on the iron beach
the sky might as well be made of slate
the rain would fall if it could

Achilles is on viagra
he has sacked troy once more
just for the hell of it
the city burns and burns
the nightmares have returned

none of the prophecies came true

come dance with me dark prince
not even you can keep the moon down

Andros - Celebration of the Unknown Sailor

the sun streams
through windows
like roman short swords

shadows of cypress fall
on the bleached
stone village walls

townspeople wear mounds of clothes
huddle under the shadows
from the olive orchard

sleep a light afternoon sleep
dream of fresh pears
and fields of tan wheat

twelve hundred and fourteen
carved stone steps down
to the slow roll of the mediterranean

the harbor sunken since the sixth century
water and empire and

greek children dive off the cliffs
see who can swim deepest
through swarms of silver fish igniting in the sun

jumbled blocks of stone loom up in answer
the bones gone
the names petrified

just then the people wake
to the ringing of church bells
they walk the long walk to the sea

scatter petals of roses everywhere