And your name, poverty.
Green land of mist & rain
soft light on white skin
watery line for
the eye
to rest upon
a
crucifixion
white clay, bone china
and always those gray marks
on
the back of the hand
to remind me of
poverty
that is, your name.
Memory is this animal
vulnerable, nocturnal
a dark grazer of
stray thoughts
leaves on a forest path.
Pale words come out of your mouth
pale green moths
attracted
to some light
and all this whiteness
odourless pure
whiteness of poverty
And the shape of the ear that
speaks
c o m p a s s i o n
[ And in thy mind beauty, O Artemis,
as of mountain lakes in the dawn.
Foam and silk are thy fingers,
Kuanon,
and the long
suavity of her movings,
willow and olive
reflected…
]
… and it is not for nothing that
chrysalides mate in the air…
Stone (Petra) the name of the village
and the young maid (Zoe) would
visit in
June (Kledon) the old stone well
to fish in the
reflections the face –
the countenance – of her
beloved one –
yet to be met.
And she would have to flee, a young
married lady, to a foreign land and
learn
the language and make a living knitting
– such a
wonder! – five-fingered mittens for
the Bulgarian
ladies.
And she would bear children & lose
children
& her brothers all killed & her
husband
& the armies coming & going
leaving
the land waste.
And she would be 87 and sing love songs
& dance & talk in that speech that was
older than Stone (Petra), in that voice that
was as old as Greece.
And she did not die
of old age but
falling to the ground.
Z o e ( L i f e ) was her
name 
l i f e & d e a t h don’t really matter
but
T i m e & S p a c e !
And
she told me once:
Touka nema gayda
tam na gourata
no bagpipe to look for here
there, high up in the mountains
And the sound comes out of the bagpipe
and speaks of
Zoe
and the generosity of beasts
and the magical arts of birds
And you speak your
name
that is, poverty.
[“And in thy mind beauty, O Artemis…”
Ezra Pound, Canto CX (The
Cantos of Ezra Pound,
Faber & Faber, 1975). ]
George
Touloupas | 
