at times I think you see me

when I am no longer there

our hearts grow heavy

you used to love me

when days were warmer

and nights were colder

odd thoughts about needles

and skin

falling into my thoughts

light raindrops in deep nights

with gaps

strong enough for me

big arms to envelop me

sweet words to whisper in my neck

your load is the perfect size

rolling inside me like thunder

it is explosive (this kind of lust)

words and beauty

truth and lies

strength and weakness

and me and you

ready to dive

into the icy waters.

Driving around the freeway

new songs

new aches

old friends

full of mistakes

sorry to break your heart

I never meant that

yet you knew

I was grasping

seeing things that were

already gone

building kitchens

and writing love songs.

You’d like me to go on forever

sit at my favorite place

and write another story in a month

imagine the lines on your face

or not

the way the words made you hot

but please leave me

I want to create my own melody

far from your eyes

under no disguise

can’t you see I’m pretty real

or unreal

or whatever the fuck you want to make me be

just never truly free.

More talk

All this naked thought
rock n roll riffs
in naked thoughts
spring forth like buds
aromatic sea salt bubble suds
on our bodies
as we ease into each other’s
complicated world
make it real
let the songs unfurl
emotions we feel
how people like us
have fortresses around our soul
with rust
your oil can resurrect
with each thrust.

Monday morning
Only by the Night
from beginning to end
foreplay of sexy voices
wet before you
smoky eyes
at red lights
closer & crawl
sex on fire
all make it intense
to be speechless
in the shower
of sexual scenes
in the porno
of sexual minds
in the fascination
my obsessions
with past lives and soul
enough crap to feed me
poetry for months
make me weak
you work so well
so tight
so magical
you’ve seen me before
don’t lie to yourself
I’m like the rest to you
and when you
have me in your arms
you hope
innermost fear about me
will be like the moon.

In the end
I am just
no matter how you
write it
spell it
growl it
as you are
just a boy
no matter
how many times
you try to fight it.

Pour toi

How many soul mates can there be/can we see through walls/ break our falls/ carry on and break the chain/mend the love or let it rain/numb ourselves with music and words/ ignore the sign of the birds/ wear sexy dresses/and get in these loose messes/
Listen to the wind/ the ink flows like a river/ never freezing in the winter/ binding time & sex is always on my mind/
With you/ with me/ in us
Making such a crazy scene/
Lost in the inbetweendays/
And constant sunshine rays/

So I step back/ lose my track/and dive in the river with my clothes on
Catch me head on/ you have strong arms/wicked charms
Only a kiss can stop me now/ you know exactly how.

Ten seconds

I hate microwaves
once I read an article
and removed it from my life
for damaging parts of my soul
that you see with your eyes closed.

So people thought I was ancient
heating milk in old style tiny Greek
coffee makers
and using stove tops
ovens for longer than ten seconds
and time was not rushed
still isn’t
and my kids don’t know
what a microwave is
kind of like how my parents
refused to use it
& now they say
you were right.

I was such a serving daughter
and hence a wife
losing words on the tip of a knife
sitting up all night
to finish that book of poetry
and I think of you
how every line is free
of them.
You are the part of the flower
that holds me up
the strong stem
how photographs mean nothing to us
yet how they have the potential to be
but who needs that fuss.

Bath water heals now
ocean so distant
naked micro beads know how
to remove every hint
of the sadness you leave behind
I could see it
even if I was blind
you are the one I would find
even if you found me first
or last
or the present is the past
your daily love brews my coffee
blends my tea
I never thought I would find
someone so close to me
who can do what I do
in ten seconds or less
as you watch me undress
my words
and fling them to you.
You catch them
alter them
and make them yours.
In ten seconds
art between us
is more concrete than lattes.


Naked before you with my tight jeans
snug top
blue high heeled sandals
words between us like sand
in an ocean
and you say I make you crazy
while I breakdown
have mid-life breakdown
waiting for sundown
to run into the night
embrace the demons
talk to them
comfort them
control and lose control of them
While you watch my bra strap
come undone
and you stay so close
you never run
to my other side
but you want my bedside
my naked soul
to devour
not just the skin
the game of lose or win
is long gone
play the same song
to feel my heartbeat
my retreat
Into you and your essence.

September poems 4.

The best place to be
is under the rain
prompted by love
and not idle words.
Waiting on you
is wearing me out
cliche upon cliche
of poetry for the masses
in and out
I go
trapped under the rain
my soft top
I feel everything
and suddenly
my cheeks are wet
half of it is rain
half of it is you
you come to visit me
through the sky
with your melodic messages
you never forget me
see me in the new and old
poems, songs, weather
ever changing my complex moods
that challenge yours
and you thought you were the only one
that woke up at this godamn hour

a free spirit like mine
dropping phones
willingly and unwillingly
letting go
then pulling me back in
without magnets
more indie music
get your mouth closer
as close as you can
this distant is killing my spirit.

One more day to my complete

Skipping meals sometimes is needed
staying drunk at oddest hours
in desperate places
thinking of bars
and rock stars.

Of course I call you to tell you that we still have a chance to see Gilby Clarke
and you are ready
but reality is not
and we eat in
how once upon a time
the world was
at our fingertips
talking to poets
staying up till dawn
I did it all with you
but sometimes that need
never leaves.

But I go now
to my city
my love.

Watch me
or not.

The rain has stopped.

September Poems 3.

When you are that close

I hold my breath.

I wanted to leave

a story full of poems

for your closed eyelids

my treasured gift for you

but you get so many of those

that another one gets lost in the maze.

I guess I could take so much more pain

than I ever thought possible

taking advice from a nineteen year old

while listening to Louis Armstrong

modern and ancient meet in my head

collide and inhale that rough voice

with the air

gasping and imagining

that hot sweaty jazz club

in Chicago

where we met

for the first time

during the solo.

Now all is forgotten

buried in tarnished boxes

but suddenly the scene switches

to the Modern fucking world

and Neko Case

is singing Furnace Room Lullaby

and I hide

away from that part in the song

that can destroy every part of me

easier than your words can ever do.

It is alright though

my books of poetry

will probably never get done

I will hold them adrift

through my apartment

where I’m not so high in the sky

but I could run up the stairs like a teenager

above the squirrels

hiding always hiding

but I hear them

as I hear you

in the silence.

Sometimes not even a beating heart is near me

only the heat on my face flushing me

from my mom’s chicken soup

with lots of lemon and egg whites

apparently it heals all, she says.

I’m beginning to believe in the healing of food

more than love.

September Poems 2.

It’s not that you don’t include me

I could care less

about that shit

it’s all in my internal fit

my purple party dress

is always on

ready to dance until dawn

and the insomnia means naught

for all we fought

was worth a penny.

You are always funny

a comic in a tragedy

a tragic figure in a romance

all of these parts of you

I can see

of course I can be free

to choose.

All I want are your words

to penetrate deep within me

and they resonate, they do, they see

the invisible girl in me.

I don’t mean to rhyme

I know it’s not a crime

dropping my skirt in a dime

ready for you


all the unknown parts

stepping on broken hearts

that lead me straight to you.

In the middle of the day on a two

minute break.

I’m floating in a human lake

feeling your presence

in the past tense.

I know I pushed you away

I know it’s all my fault

please never halt

for me.

The Montreal air is so cold

summer to winter in one day

duvet comforters

festivals are over

daybreak disappearing

students arising

and you and me

are writing

what else is there left to do?

Soon I’ll be so naked

you won’t even see my skin.

Or maybe you always have. 

September poems 1.

I am trying to sleep
really, I am
but thoughts and words
you’ve sent me
block my r.e.m. waves
I check on your love
like emails
does it even exist?
There is no pulse
so I sleep again
but nothing escapes
the iambic pentameter in my head
or the haiku, 5, 7,5
syllables, counting
and all I could think about
are juxtapositions
of words
that describe a kind of love
like ours
that exists in the air
through wires and sighs
unrelenting lies
sleepless states
locked up secrets
padlocks on unknown bridges
glimpses of me confuse
but I’d rather stay in bed
than confess to you
I want the sheets comfort
to erase the dark thoughts
of how I almost died
in no one’s arms
how horseshoes truly matter
and poems
can combust in mid-air.

I get to nothing
no finish line awaits
I am just another writer
or maybe not.

But I found you in this maze
and even when I let you go
I did not.
I could not.
I lied.

I think you look better with her
she’s softer around the edges
young, fresh
while I am too jaded
too fucking romantic
too old
too pretty
too witty.

Soon you will agree.

Back Table

Back table
bottle of something hot
between us
burning our lungs
setting our nerves on edge

Come closer, I don’t bite, you said.

But oh, how you lie
and how you do
on all the places
I want you too.

Feel my magnetic field
you walk right into me
I yield
fearless of getting burnt
opening up your arms
you want all my pain
for you understand
I can never be that tree
you thought I would be.

Your cool stance
blows my hair in the wind
in a temporal trance
smack in the middle of the sky
I fall weak to your words
with no wings to fly.

Convince me of anything
you know you can
you have the power to fling
the words like no other man
but you use it wisely
a pro
a bro
leaving my body undone
while on a paper and pen
where we write from
sentences mingle and bend
to each other
and make love
with ease in a silent breeze
they connect and detect
a truth.

Try to catch the fucking sun
forget about the moon
and its phases
we need the heat
to make everything complete
less complicated
as you magically trace my body
with pen strokes on your fingertips
then quickly replace them
with your rough lips
and eager hands grasp my hips.

All from the dark back table
nothing again
seems stable.

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medicated and sedated


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...from a certain point of view.


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A topnotch WordPress.com site

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Fiction. Essays. Chocolate.

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Poetry, prose, lyrics and short stories. Praying for peace through introspection using pen and page.

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my thoughts about books


The blog for the artists' chapbook Small Grass

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Greek poet

Poems: Spiros Doikas - Ποιήματα: Σπύρος Δόικας

Literary Hour

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My poetry about flowers, faith and family.


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