Biography of Cretan Maineiac
A strange vagabond.......
Within you is your native land.
So search none other, never more depart.
You are never homeless in your heart.
As one might surmise from viewing my writing, i'm far more of an appreciator of great poetry than i am an exponent thereof.
My name derives from a combination of genetic ties to the Greek island of Crete and geographical ties to the great United State of Maine.
I believe poetry to be the most genuine of art forms. Although it is easy enough for anyone to scribble a few vague lines and name it poesy, true appreciation of the genre is strictly a labor of love.
Among the literary food groups, poetry is the red meat, with short stories ranking as potatoes and novels representing salad. It is sumptuous, savory, satisfying, and takes a lifetime to digest.
Even if blood appears
coruscant through my
as i mess
with your head.
'Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me.'
'I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.'
'It is difficult/to get the news from poems/yet men die miserably every day/for lack/of what is found there.'
-William Carlos Williams; Asphodel, That Greeny Flower
'I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.'
-Ecclesiastes 1: 14
'And what can be foolisher than this? '
Cretan Maineiac Poems
Baseball: Opening Day
Muggy today, a pop of the mitt, a whiff of the grass, swish of the bat in the April air,
The offer never ceases to be tho i strike it down relentlessly
Crisis nags like a baying hound at those who wear it as a crown
Know Holds Bard
To fix a headlock on a metaphor, or clamp a full nelson on a
We open our Eyes only because God
1986: Rebel's Lament
What of the knowing wind of Hendrix on vinyl songs of silence lately branded for our own good?
.The Illness Industry
'I got to the Doctor's office, ' Scarlett said, 'and THE FREAKIN' PLACE WAS CLOSED FOR THE NEXT FIVE DAYS! ! '
Water Lily I Met At Work
No thorns, limbs sashay longly, cheetah walk toward no prey, footloose, her dark blond hair
.O Pateras, The Good Doctor
*for my father* You look just like him, some say, that
Ted Sheridan, Warrior
Ted Sheridan fought for our soil he woulda' done it just for oil.
The Pic You Sent
Since then you’ve ground my sincerity like an old smoke under your heel, scoffed
The General's report on the surge takes a back seat to Britney's
The pine tree rained needles and ants upon the Somali and me,
Disconnected: For T
No reaching out no touching No more punching out the numbers
.Even Denny's Was Closed
Christmas eve caught me short,
late in the week. Sales
clanged, rung and beeped
through the joyous
season even as
Resources shrank, ebbed,