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by Ariana Kalliga


Working on syllables 

with their own rhythm 

in past recreation.


I am sitting in Tompkins Square,

detailing the fallen breeze 

which outlines the rest.


The first one I met 

was at temperance fountain, 

confused for the Elm.

you stood back slightly

I approached from the side.


Limited text featured in 

the diary of an architect. 

He was transfixed,

by my landlord’s pure build.

Periodically , she re-arranged things 


Followed a flutist to New Mexico 

in search of new company.


I still wonder 

about the city

and the home

Where spirits rest.


We stepped away from each other then,

lifting tiles with our feet.










Inspired by the "Call it a night" performance

by Elektra Stampoulou


"Inside, outside, in bed, woken up, on the phone, online, up close, always careful, we walk and sit and work through our groundhog days. […] But in the evening, while people are seated at the dinner table or on their couches watching films, Netflix or whatever, someone comes up to them very softly. Walking in her socks, she opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine magical sparkling dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open. Then she blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin to droop. She only wants them to quiet down so that she can narrate stories to them and they never are quiet and still until they are asleep. As soon as they drift off, she sits next to them. She is nicely dressed with a beautiful, soft, silk coat, the color of which is impossible to decide, since it changes from deep green to purple-red to dark blue as she turns from side to side. Under each arm she carries an umbrella; the one with vivid pictures on the inside, she spreads over the people who wish to travel and then they set out for the dreamiest adventures in their sleep. But the other umbrella is pitch black, and this she holds over the people who wish to rest and forget, so that they sleep heavily, and wake up in the morning without having dreamt at all. […]"


Χαϊκού του Κωνσταντίνου Μαρκογιάννη






if patience is the way

I shall become a river

and flow forever




για πάντα να ρέω















Ο εικαστικός-ποιητής Κωνσταντίνος Μαρκογιάννης γεννήθηκε στη Θεσ/νίκη στις 2 Ιουλίου 1977. Είναι απόφοιτος του Κολλεγίου Anatoliaμε πανεπιστημιακές σπουδές στην εικονογράφηση και τη φωτογραφία και διδακτορικό τίτλο στις καλές τέχνες. Είναι μέλος του ΣΚΕΤΒΕ και έχει συμμετάσχει σε δεκάδες εκθέσεις στην Ελλάδα και το εξωτερικό. Έργα και κείμενά του έχουν δημοσιευτεί σε διάφορα έντυπα και ιστότοπους. Περισσότερες πληροφορίες στις προσωπικές του ιστοσελίδες (

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