Τα βότσαλα στην αμμουδιά χαλάνε το τοπίο γιατί τα πόδια μας πονάν, γι’ αυτό κι η θάλασσα συνέχεια τα χαϊδεύει ωσάν παιδιά της, να πολλαπλασιάζονται, να μικραίνουν, μέχρι τον τελευταίο αισθητό σεισμό, άμμος χρυσή να γίνουν, μαύρη να γίνουν άμμος, να γίνουν κόκκινη άμμος, ν’

I-V-A-N Pagonov mirror-squeezed by his given name I have always wanted to murder you irredeemably with velvet poisonous plums and some ash on the tip of a spoon to nourish your peeing hole [ ] no need, you told me, to attack a short piece of meat vomiting dead yellow matt

Some distinct plumage on a man is no harm. Birds have it, male insects have it before they are eaten by her, fish have it, mammals have it except on their exposed genitals, Humans don’t anymore, Ivan Pagonov, You must have said it, one day, don’t we always have to find a

Alas, let us pay tribute to a gargoyle statuette of a three-legged three-armed ever longer-tongued human, Ivan Pagonov with narghile, flavouring on his third harman, a man’s withered lips are dripping bittersweet saliva, once more. (24/01/08)

Hmm, Homo Digitalis, what first mission assigned, the body of an anorexic pregnant to envelope quickly are you designed, what in that mega-tummy, are you, all western world wonders, carrying? (29/01/2008)

Proof is an end-symbolizing-scratch on the hard trunk of the first underwater sequoia, (very high among the branches) All scientists think a six-legged being has nailed its way there, during the momentary uprising of the magnificent tree. [Times passing leave tracks nowh

It all starts on Ivan Pagonov’s first photo in the plastic, blue frame in the boy’s room. The sequel of plastic melting in every town and city, in the hidden resorts, in every village, in the countryside, on the bottom of the rivers, the lakes, the seas, the oceans. Bubbl

set north, light nightly rain, I could not but sense it, in my guts’ gully erosion, an Ivan Pagonov defecated in coma, to the planet’s relief, as a new plant generation, set forth, (31/01/08)

If a boy is of three nations born, his DNA upgrades to unseen ends; it is when this scorn of two sympatric deviations rules, - such clashing frontiers desolate - Recently, -you felt it, reader- [in the Molotov bomb, your car inflaming] mixings have happened, and there yo

27. 2,700,000 προ μηδενός, Πιθηκάνθρωπε, γιατί, η Λούση των παιδιών σου λούζει τα μακριά, μαύρα μαλλιά κι εσύ κρυμμένος παρακολουθείς πίσω από θάμνου φύλλωμα πυκνό. Όλα τα είδη μικραίνουν, στεριώνονται, φτερώνονται κι εσύ πεισματικά ολοένα πιο ευθυτενής, ορθοστατείς.

Στην επόκ του «τίποτα για κανένα» με τα πανό να αναγράφουν «τα πάντα για εμένα», Φιλανθρωπείς όταν λόγια δεν πουλάς. Αλαφιασμένος και αλλοπαρμένος στο φτηνό χρυσάφι, στο ακριβό πετρέλαιο, ανοίγεις τη δική σου τρύπα να κρυφτείς και δίνεις τη δική σου σακούλα να εξιλεωθείς