A Multidimensional Analysis Of A Poet Poem by Niko Tiliopoulos

You are reading my poems
and you may think your hat knows (of) me.

Ha! If you do, gimme a ring sister,
cause sympathy is not for sale in this shop,
nor love, for that matter, nor obedience,
nor anarchy, fear, sorrow, hope.

Children are playing in my backyard,
automatons are walking in my front,
while I am here mate, all naked and vulnerable.

Yet I am hidden behind the veils of reality,
in the periphery of the blindman’s view,
inside the clock’s ticks, the shoes’ clicks,
beside you, in front of you, with you.

And I don’t really care about the stories,
the glories, the news, the newsweeks,
the ephemeral, the local, the trivial,
the important, the global, the central,
the unreal, the surreal, the terminal.

It’s the point of the thorn that matters to me,
the path of a crack on a coffee-cup,
the rhythm in the dance of a snowflake,
the vengeance of a grain of pollen,
the loneliness of a firewood’s splinter,
the confidence of a seed’s outfit,
the shape of the widow’s tear,
the shake of the mother’s hip,
the wrinkles on the old man’s palms,
the shiver of the lover’s lips...

It is the microworld in the microcosm.

So now you may think
your hat knows more about me,
and if you do, just tell me how brother
I can see myself in you,
and you can free yourself in me.