Greek Avant Garde Poetry


Nico Vassilakis


is getting to me

A pile-up of information

You pay for a certain
type of experience

It's subcutaneous
It's here

To choose not to decide is
the least satisfying
and yet we let it happen 
over and over again 

You resist sacrifice
even if it's for the greater good

Trouble is only reversible
never a tripled thing

What's not attributable 
is your fault

Something is not going right 

You think I'm talking about it

Weaker than thou
is the voting booth

Yet another required update
to the weather app 

It's the small beauties
your eyes catch

Be mindful and
apologize when you're not

Otherwise, go about your business

You can delete me

I don't mind how
other fingers follow the way you dance

It's dancing, what do you want?

But some of me
will stay in your cheek bones

Even after I'm done

A little bump in my step then

You can delete me
It's alright

I built that palace
for you 
Whenever you need

And it's full of love and time and snot and smells 

It's been a quagmire since
The crushed compass and a discard of words

It happened
It happened twice
It happened three times

I'm some kind of lucky
A dead person
A star of the neighborhood
That's for sure
A whimsy on an otherwise
static surface

I'm being looked at
I'm being noticed
The very letters of the word standout 
So that a gaggle of letters matter better than a word and a word is nothing but a sign of things

You know what I'm saying
You hear intention
Even without a body attached

It's subcutaneous 
It's here

A handwritten ghost of moments 

It's too much at times
You know it