My uncle in Crete,the one whose name means freedom just died. I was remembering how he was what I recall of childhood in Greece, his trikiklo: this mechanized man-size tricycle and his appetite--a large man in every way with a large, large laugh. Saying it that way makes me think that it wasn't just my slick, sharp-featured, bad-boy Uncle Louis (of course) to inform my own "appetites" but also this uncle (and his son, Anastasi--one of my first five-year-old-girl-crushes) to make a large spirit, uncensored and unforgettable be something irrestistable to me.
Yiasou Theo Lefteri. Filia.
I'm so sorry, my Intagliod...
ReplyDeleteThanks Sweet L-Bo. It is very sad but all those cliches about how all of the suffering has at least stopped.
ReplyDeleteI keep thinking about your poems and am really excited about the books. Be well, etc.