Metropolitans Methodios and Varnavas Discuss Financial Situation in Greece.Support Philoptochos Response to COVID-19.Application Process and Application Portal.The 2023 Metropolis of Boston Scholarship Committee.George's Hellenic Benefit Society of Tsamantas Scholarship 2020 VIRTUAL Ministry Awards Recognition.Pastoral Visit of His Eminence Metropolitan Methodios in Arlington, MA.Those porcelain frogs never would have sung.Greek Orthodox Metropolis of Boston ΙΕΡΑ ΜΗΤΡΟΠΟΛΙΣ ΒΟΣΤΩΝΗΣ I walked ahead and tripped on the cement. 'cause the songs come scarce to these frogs these days, Then the frogs said, "Thank you for another thing to sing, The fire loses itself to the rain, to the steps, now louder, louder,Įight, and it's dark, eight, and it's dark, eight o'clock and it's dark, O octopus. Lungs rising, magnificent kites, kites, O octopus.ĭamn it all, I've forgiven you, damn it all,Īnd all those doors name your size I've forgiven them, pick one, won't you, won't you, I want this to be my holiday fire, O octopus.Īnd changes only seem, the words don't matter now, do they? I want to warm all my feet by the fire, O octopus, You hand me an eight-pronged umbrella for my eyes.Īs long as I stay squiggled I'll feel the blaze, I'm in the way, you gotta kick me out, kick me out,īrows start shifting with a please of go, please go, You love the flakes, you love the flakes, you wanna sprawl all out, Which wall's north? You keep on spinning them, When you hold the little square, you feel the echoes. This young and old at once is like a snapshot of a well, I like its little bars, they remind me of your gate, So the kids who need to tease me can get it out of their systems. I put the mirror round my neck, parade it around town, Putting a red nose on the mirror in the bathroom, I see you've made a clown of my compassion, I think you're thinking bigger things than I could ever know,īut really I don't know what you're thinking. I can't inject your solitude into my arm, Your big black belt is gone from my bedside, Reading, writing, playing until nighttime. I put them round my neck and ride them in the rain and wind, Like a granny I collect the little pieces,Įach one has your face because it's broken, Now I've got it 'cause the coat packed up and left me withĪn ashtray with some photos of some streets that keep blinking at the corners. Three months ago I longed for a swan song,Ī coat to wrap me up like a blanket till I sleep. I dream up all the reasons why you don't pick up the phone,īut all my dreams fall flat 'cause you're just lying in bed. My fever lets you go 'cause I've got so much to do, Some people have it both ways, but I don't,Īnd the day I have it all I'll just fall down dead.Īt night I toss and turn with understanding, I wish a goddess could write songs like mine, And my one gift to you was that I came to see him in the grey, not only came to see him in the grey, but came back again, again, despite all mistakes, to see what we were all about. I know I saw his face he stamped a star on me, and I felt the empty trick of the idol known as absence, I read the scripts of absence, the rot of golden ink. Turning around, around and around, silver like the cloak of the man with the violin. Then I came unto an island rude with birds. So I kept them for myself instead, and put them up, up on the walls, up on the walls, both sides of the hall. But none of these gifts had the light and the air and the twist to match just what you wanted. I brought you a duck, and a penguin and an owl, a platypus and an albatross. He's sitting up there with missing lungs. It landed on "heh," and half of me went Roman, up the golden rope to nest in the stars. I brought my weight to the end of the world. Don't we love the things that disappear? Don't we love the things that twist in the sun? Don't we love the things that are almost gone? You love him 'cause he carries light things and disappears when you call. There goes the man with the violin, twisting like a dreidel in the sun.
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