July 3, 2025 [part 2]

after walking around
and around and around
the tiny streets of Greece
trying to find one specific place
that may
or may not
be closed

an evening in a roof-top hot tub
[even if it is colder than expected]
while gazing across the way
at the lit-up acropolis
and thinking of all the birds you saw
while wandering
and all the great food you had
between your thousands of steps

that’s
the way to end a day

July 3, 2025

i still can’t get over
how much this city,
though so different
from my concrete jungle,
can remind me so much
of home

from the pigeons
and mourning doves
and stray cats
everywhere

to the instances of
so many different
languages being spoken
and written down

to its walkability
and metro system,
even the tourist traps
are cute reminders
of my home’s downtown

[feeling at home
even in a foreign city —
the story of new yorkers abroad]

July 2, 2025 [part 2]

the Acropolis was built
stone by stone by hand
and when it was eroded
by siege
or nature
or time
it was rebuilt
stone by stone
by hand
and these days
though the hands are working
machinery
the conservation process
is rebuilding things
to seem
as they would have been
thousands of years ago
still
stone
by
stone

July 2, 2025

being dehydrated
while walking around in Greece
is nice because
you don’t have to use the restroom
nearly as much as usual

but it’s not completely great, because
you’re dehydrated
in Greece

July 1, 2025

having not written
my full 300 words
in damn near five days,
i expected to struggle to even get past
the first hundred mark

but here i am
skating over into the two-hundred zone

and i should have known
i should have known

it’s not that i’d forget
poetry-writing
or block it up
for future poetics

it’s that i haven’t been able to get things
out
in days

and i am a fountain
about to unleash
a river’s worth of flow;
a dam
that is bursting at the seams
with words and stanzas
and ideas and dreams
[and, of course, metaphors and similes]
there is a flood of poetry
erupting from me

i really should have known