YANNIS RITSOS'S ROAD

Writing Sunday on a page
by an exile's diary
one wave at a time
on the sea curve of colors
knowing the colonel's curse
though familiar to a poet
walks on Ritsos's road
where sleeping air dies
on patient stones
from myth's escape
with a cold wine skin
of freedom
with an oxidation
of Mycenae's memory
of politics is revived
where tongues of fire
signed verse imagines
the fathers' warm sleep
housed in a hidden face
of bare- iced music sheets
by Athenian scrawled papers
and yellow journals
amid a skeptical pen
in abstraction
walking down known street
in a prophetic time
of fugitive justice.