Ides of "85

The heart and mind left free to roam

along the border … the wee hour’s nook

and cranny, night splashes … between the here

and now, there, and then …   

 

Back to the brazed island, ambrosia

of gypsies, tramps, and thieves --

the old skin’s far-flung oomph … goad

to retelling a tale from a long-ago road …

 

In Gyzi, a little after noon, the ides of May:

the teal tea of an Aegean spring slinking

off in a lazy adagio of clouds sinking

into the ancient claim of a fabled sea …

 

I stumbled into the tattered permanence

of antiquity’s irascibility, the cool divisions

of a smoldering body politic. Democracy  

reborn but still dependent on which side

 

of the fence you buttered your bread on,

crackled in the cradle of its progeny’s locked horns.

Everyone spoke in whispers, until they didn’t …

until the sepulcher of old animosities broke  

 

the tranquility of an idling lunch …

One learns to live with the expectations

of a sudden conclusion … was how

it was explained to me later. The logic

 

of my Athenian host, the stoic steel snap

of a mind forged on the anvil of life’s randomness,

seemed irrefutable. After the fifth ouzo,

the mirage of the afternoon ebbed into

 

an evening’s revival of the bacchanalian dilemma --

what island which beach would you wake

to find Dionysus wiggling to the tide’s twisting pulse?  

By morning the insouciant ray of youth’s indifference

 

to anything but self-fulfillment had burned off

the sea-beast. In a few days, Tsoutsovis’ blazing

debate would be chucked from my rucksack,

to find a space for the green-eyed daughter

 

of a sun-charred critikos. Fate’s gift,

as I’d soon begin to call her -- Pinelopi,

Pine -- to explain the convergence

of simultaneity, our last-minute decisions

 

of a later ferry, portentous happenstance

of seats, my somewhat impish choice

of reading material. Our opening to a conversation:

a big book … an old story … yes, I’ve heard

 

it many times, my father’s favorite. I’m in it

you know? The tease of laughter breaking down

the barriers of strangers: reasons for being

on the overnight ferry to Crete …

 

Father. Irene Papas. Older than my mother!

Mine too. Zorba, she laughed. And when I did too,

the name became mine … her quixotic fool.

By the time we docked, I had her address and

 

the promise of a traditional Cretan meal

if I survived the trip inland. Ten days,

a suitable interlude, until she found me

scratching up hill through the brutal ignorance

 

of a pitiless sun, Odysseus urging me on

from the shadows of the white mountains.

Just in time, dinner in an hour, long enough

to complete the tortuous climb and splash

myself before the naked interrogation …

Not too fierce, more of an inquisition,

doctoral examination into the depths of why

I’d opted for the financial mismanagement

 

of an arts degree. When I offered up the excuse,

I prefer the mind over matter …  

A romantic. Zorba indeed. And seemingly

satisfied, she declared me certifiably unfit

 

for anything but tending sheets …

I’d come intending to trace the great arc

of the poet’s illustrious vagabonds -- but,

as Mad Jack’s wild childe had, veered --

 

wedded, as the story goes, to the persuasion

of a beauty, I surrendered the widow and threw

in with Circe. However the noble Ithacan found his way

back, I’d leave to the venerable Homer to tell …  

 

the heart and mind free to roam …

went no further than the Acropolis.

Through the wee hours, nooks, and crannies …

I spent an Aegean summer in Gyzi

 

dipping from her Piney urn …

Now, almost forty years on, when

I close my eyes to remember -- sadly

it’s the widow I conjure … Crete’s long-lost beauty.  

Ken e Bujold

Reviews

[andrew mitchell]

What an epic write Ken, superb reading like from some Greek Mythology tale.

[Neville]

Hey Ken, that's pretty much a carbon copy of my own experience of Crete (not my first because that was on a school trip or rather cruise) and all I can remember is Sharon Rose .. but rather my own adventures of island hopping etc etc etc etc ... just short of three months total abandon culminating in .. d****t, I almost lost myself back them .. a gentleman neva tells tho' does one .. he just writes about it in snippets .. a lovely reminisce if I may say so .............. Neville

[Chris Shaw]

Wonderful to remember with such clarity the adventures of forty years back. What a smooth operator you were on the overnight ferry to Crete. Packed full with detail. I just love Greece and the Greek islands. People, food, ouzo, metaxa. sun and glorious beaches. You have me pining here for a touch of Zorba and the Gods. Great write Ken. Much enjoyed your memories of Greece and of course that lovely widow.

Chris

[Ken e Bujold]

yes! until i went to Crete, Irene Pappas in Zorba was the ultimate to my mind in exotic creatures. I'd have gladly given body parts to you know what with her, even if she was older than my mother. But then as the story goes... 22, idling a summer on the continent... i made it to Crete, back to Athens, and Rome, only because i had a flight to catch back home. The girl wasn't my first love so much as my first wild fling. Don't know what became of her, or if she even thinks of me, but now and then i do remember her.
The other part of this tale that is true is the Ides of May. May 15, 1985, Athens was gripped by a police shootout with a leftist terrorist. I had been there 3 days, and life had been fun and games, then it got a tad bit more interesting.

[Chris Shaw]

I think your memories of the widow must be far more pleasant than those of a police shoot out. Does she remember you? As a mature woman, I would say most definitely. A young stud. Not likely to forget that :)

[Vol]

Ken,
I would hope everyone could have a memory of light and sea and sun as sharp as yours. The sensual nature of suffering mingled with excitement and joy, with exotic food, as reward for your efforts! of the people we meet have no idea the value of a memory expedition and taking time to savor the aged wine stored there. It isn't the same as the original, it is far richer. and easily rewarding. Your imagery is as sharp as a knife.
Vol

[Ken e Bujold]

thank you for the very generous review Vol. glad you enjoyed the work. visit anytime.

ken

[Betty Hermelee]

I've heard of all the Greek Gods and Goddesses; and you portray them with ease and grace; but what I love the most is the present when you were in Crete and other islands... we have quite a few Greek friends and have spent time on many islands, including Crete.... your words are truly full of imagery and gusto and you show us love and the beauty of the Islands.... past and present.
A complex and enjoyable read.
Best, B

[W. Barrett Munn]

Well, I hadn’t really planned on reading Homer today along with the collected works of John Ashbery but you make them SO interesting.

Winston

[Dave Brown]

A much more major offering than I have previously seen
Would that I could that I, could that I would that I.
Impressive as it is, my simplistic mind doesn't come close to doing it the justice deserved

[emmajoygreen]

A superb glow and show of a heaven on earth, its past, its beauty: expectations of further greatness and quiet moments soaking up long and glorioushistory... an inspiring present. And who knows, rebirth into more than can ever be more? . Wonderful poem, utterly visual, bopth academic but throbbing with life. Will return to read again.. again.

' Ten days,
a suitable interlude, until she found me
scratching up hill through the brutal ignorance
of a pitiless sun, Odysseus urging me on
from the shadows of the white mountains.'

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for stopping by and the kind review Emma

[emmajoygreen]

You have brought back so many memories but emotionally enhanced them yet - gentled a few here or there. Many thank yous, sir.