there are those certain ones, those special friends,
they fall down from the sky, like white snowflakes,
that land upon my nose and tongue, and melt,
that chill me, wake me from complaceny,
and melt my heart to water, falling rain,
our time together short, so very short,
and gone, they leave a sore and open wound,
which nothing filled, could fill or ever will,
just holes, i'm full of holes, i am a hole,
come one, come all, come more, come fall some more,
and tingle my dear nose and tongue and heart,
and make me live and die again, again

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

Oh, Love's infinity he often feigns.
The arrow's tip is buried in the heart,
Yet Cupid's weapon penetrates in part.
Though head pierce deep the tail outside remains.

As Love's infection spreads about through veins,
Its sweet eternal myth sets out its start.
Yet myths fade soon and hearts are torn apart,
And one who loved before so soon disdains.

Because the hand can touch the arrow's tail,
It pulls the length of it out from the soul,
The Mythic Love then dissipates to cold.

They all who buy the myth are doomed to fail,
Becoming merely halves who once were whole,
And fabled myths become a thing of old.


(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

We're strapped into our seats upon this boat,
the vessel of the journey of our days,
and steady 'pon the Grand River we float,
that would we, we could not deter its way.

The children whine, this journey never ends,
adults see where they've been and where they go,
The elderly, prepared to leave, pretend,
yet wish the ride to stutter and to slow.

The journey's one, though it be mine or thine,
though when it starts, the start is all we know,
the more we've traveled, less we have of time,
and wish we had some more before we go.

But God has granted me to be this wise:
that I should spend my journey in your eyes.

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

dear man, you did one wrong, don't celebrate,
you'll hear again about it till this date,

dear man you did two wrongs, get set to flee,
she'll cry about your wrongs, they will be three,

you did three wrongs, start looking for the door,
when next you spat, she'll bring to you all four,

and lord forbid your four come back as five,
this pattern promulgates while you're alive,

when five wrongs then return to you as six,
you'll wish for tickets down the river Styx,

and six will show as seven different things,
and ten, eleven, only diamond rings

appease the wrath of woman but do fret,
for pachyderms and females don't forget,

your flaws will always exponential grow,
and this a man must always need to know.

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

I dreamed, a city filled with roads,
where each road carried just one car,
and stretched past houses and abodes,
so far to east and west so far,

I dreamed, my brother drove his car,
it broke down, he got out and then,
he walked towards the morning star,
never to be seen again.

I dreamed, the years had passed away,
abandoned car now under sand,
I pine for it, yet understand,
its driver's in a different land.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

where is the other world, where does reside
the realm of souls impossible to see
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

most say it is a place where souls abide
a distance from the flesh of which they flee
where is the other world, where does reside

the doorway sought and failed where many've tried
to peek into the dark against decree
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

yet is it here among us as we cry
for loved ones passed from casket 'cross that sea?
where is the other world, where does reside?

and could it be right next to those who've died
while resonating foreign frequencies
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

why do we look with longing to the skies
when all around us things are never seen?
where is the other world, where does reside
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

with every thought of you,
my heart explodes roses,
filling my mind's sky
with rose petal rain,
and every red petal
bears your name,
showering me with smiles
with every thought of you.

(C)1997, Christos Rigakos

i find myself at rest, lain sickly prone,
a broken figure in contorted pose,
halfway in mud, my head beside a stone,
an unintended consequence i chose,

at last the bottom of this deep ravine,
thrown from a cliff when reason found its way,
i tumbled down a path i'd not foreseen,
i now await my healing as i lay,

o'er shards of flint and glass, o'er cobblestones,
was i dragged furiously by one who fled,
so flesh did lacerate round breaking bones,
and blood spilled wildly, i should have been dead,

yet my sweet's chariot my hand released,
she rode off to the west, i rest in east

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

i knew a girl, not well, but i
          knew well enough to be
a floating cloud upon the sky
          when need arised to see
if some temptations had the gust
to move her into someone's ******
          and as it were i rained into the sea

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

We see the world through crests and troughs of light,
That points to many things, returns to show,
What's there before us so that we may know,
The world existing in our precious sight.

Yet what if what we see, and think is right,
by virtue of unveiling of its glow,
Is merely part of what the light won't show,
of that which lives forever in the night?

What could there be that human eye won't see,
Which by this lack of sight we sure deny;
And what of those we love who've passed away?

Between the crest and trough at some degree,
Are things on Earth attributed to sky,
And by a few degrees are kept at bay?

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

they came to Earth to take us all away,
the few of us who'd make a new beginning,
who had the mark to save us from the Day,

through whispers into children's ears would say,
the dates when Death's visage would show up grinning,
they came to Earth to take us all away,

who have our innocence, the rest would stay,
who lost it in a sea of ****** sinning,
who had the mark to save us from the Day,

the visitors would show them bleak and gray
foreshadowings the Sun would sure be bringing,
they came to Earth to take us all away,

yet no requests of those who'd strongly pray,
could stem the tide that'd stop the Earth from spinning,
who had the mark to save us from the Day

could, with a pebble in the hand, go away,
and find ourselves upon a new field, singing,
they came to Earth to take us all away,
who had the mark to save us from the Day

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

while winter still, today's pure air is Spring's,
as light jackets and shorter shirts attest,
that heart-bud-waking fragrance lingering,
the air in nostrils puffing up the breast,

in all directions couples holding hands,
while strolling through the effervescent park,
where squirrels and playing children understand,
a difference in the air so crisp and stark,

my thoughts, to love turn, running into space,
a missing heart beats silence into mine,
i turn to see a void where in its place,
not long ago our faces were combined,

i walk along the pathways and i stare,
the hand now holding mine is only air

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

i dragged the blade across my skin
and bled the pain away
the curse that flowed around within
no longer had to stay

i huffed and could no longer feel
if i was still alive
and asked for beatings hard and real
to help me then revive

my face had blackened here and there
i morphed into one dead
i had no time to eat my hair
had left my waning head

in time i withered like a leaf
as autumn did arrive
and knew just by the weight of grief
my corpse was still alive

but one day as i sat in bed
and found an empty pad
i wrote the tale of my life's dread
the mourning of the sad

i cut the forms of letters there
the pen unstopped had bled
the curse into the morning air
and i would live instead

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos

Oh foolish man, do recognize your place,
Has changed, and what is now's no more as then.
She's planning to estrange her passion when,
She tells you solemnly she needs some space.

Do not agree, for it is not the case,
That she will merely wait within her den,
Return to you upon the count to ten.
Do not let go, and if you have, give chase!

For in that space of time you'd be apart,
She'll seek her courage, muster what she can,
To overcome the love, do what she ought,

And unobstructed, strangle her own heart,
Untethering to meet another man,
And render you a silent afterthought!

16:29, 3/23/2014

If I were sure you'd take me back I would
delay myself to ask instead, would I?
Rethink the question, not as would but should!

I would have once done everything I could
to stand again before you eye to eye,
if I were sure you'd take me back.  I would

have climbed mount Everest and stood
upon that peak that scrapes the clear blue sky,
rethink!  The question, not as would but should

I then return to that once happy 'hood,
that turned its back the day you said goodbye?
If I were sure you'd take me back I would

examine your once vibrant heart turned wood,
to analyze your once hot blood gone dry,
rethink the question, not as would but should

believing good turned bad can turn to good
bring joy once more or turn again to sighs?
If I were sure you'd take me back I would
rethink the question, not as would but should.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

he died in 1946
          his ghost somehow lives on
the echoes of his mental tricks
          have stayed though he be gone
and when the man was still alive
to make his master state to thrive
          he'd pen bad economics with his song

he'd split his time between his song
          and whispered recreation
for though his wail was mighty long
          it ran with innovation
he'd bring a promise of a toy
then ****** boys to bring him joy
          and scoffed at hints of fiery damnation

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

as you pour the wine
while staring at me
it overflows
this heart of mine
with uncontainable love

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

let's run again before we have to leave
let's take the time to do just this one thing
our time is very short, you must believe

to run our hearts will beat, we'll have to breathe
and life will course through veins, and lungs will ring
let's run again before we have to leave

let's run and wear our hearts upon a sleeve
and tie our hearts together with some string
our time is very short, you must believe

all races end, spectators then will grieve
as long as we do run, we'll fly with wings
let's run again before we have to leave

the end of things will come, we'll be bereived
why waste our precious time on empty things
our time is very short, you must believe

let's run the paths that always interweave
where hearts beat through the breath that living brings
let's run again before we have to leave
our time is very short, you must believe

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

pouring out
old water
even my heart
needs catharsis
now and then

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

her words
i'll remember
"i'll love you forever
and never will i stop loving
never"

"never
will i ever
want you again ever
even though i said forever--
never"

her breath
evaporates
her words are breath to me
not to grasp but inhale and dream
of them

her words
exist no more
not carved in stone nor steel
not bound by worth or earth, but by
my thoughts

(C)2002, Christos Rigakos

Oh, what is love if not but what it seems,
The chain that binds two hearts throughout the year,
And not merely a latch to hitch one's dreams,
Unhitching when the dreams no more seem near?

And what's a lover but a partner-soul,
Enjoined to share just one earthly abode?
Where one departs, it leaves an aching hole,
To which the other sings their bitter ode.

Yet often love's a means to reach one's end,
The other finds their love is not a wheel,
But merely woven fabric quick to rend,
When profit will not gain one's business deal.

Commitment is a promise carved in stone,
That lasts until the flesh departs from bone.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

mother cries
over again
her son's name

(C)2007 Christos Rigakos

all night
eluding my capture
sleep
holds me captive
in the morning

(C)2001, Christos Rigakos

At Death's door all are banging,
"Let him out! Give him back!"
But Death pretends he's not at home,
until the knocking ceases.


(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

Valentine's is almost here,
this year I'll be prepared,
I won't bemoan this empty life,
and cry that no one cared,

I'll buy myself a pretty card,
and write myself a wish,
then come home with a fresh bouquet,
and give my hand a kiss,

I'll celebrate the one I love,
who yet remains unknown,
to put on airs and so pretend,
this year I'm not alone,

With chocolate-sweetened compliments,
I'll court with all my pride,
the only person I have known,
who's never left my side

(C)2005, Christos Rigakos

dearlovertrytounderstandiunderstandyourloveforme,
yetirejectitfor­oneveryspecialreasoncan'tyousee?
there'ssomethingmissinginyourver­ylovinggivingloveforme,
thatstealsmyairyoureverystareweakensmyver­ywilltobe,
andthoughyourlovewaslikeasalveitoverflowedtheedgeforme­,
andnowinspiteandoutofspiteichooseoncemoretobeempty,
devoidofyou­avoidingyouinevermeanttohurtyousee
without you  here   or    even     near      inhaling's       easier        for         me.

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

his laughing voice
filling my ears
the memory of him

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

brother's old pictures
in every room
his absence
father has escaped
into the television

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

where you have gone no one may follow there
no tourist guide may go for tell and show
it is a place unmapped i know not where

though many've tried their patience could not bear
surrendered to this fact and they now know
where you have gone no one may follow there

i've questioned eastern experts on a dare
they said its where the life force tends to flow
it is a place unmapped i know not where

a place where all the resting find no care
perfection where you neither shrink nor grow
where you have gone no one may follow there

i've questioned western experts on a dare
they said there's only one way there to go,
it is a place unmapped i know not where

our parents soon would follow if they'd bear
to watch my passing through that door to go
where you have gone no one may follow there
it is a place unmapped i know not where

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

my sickness--rusty nail that pierced my heart
it pins me to the shadow in pursuit
that tails me through the burning light of day
and swallows me in night's cold emptiness


(C)2001, Christos Rigakos

We caught him on film and there he will stay,
frozen in time with a smile on his face,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

This brother of mine--whom Death took away,
and hid him far off in a shadowy place--
we caught him on film and there he will stay.

When Death takes his mark, it's forever, always,
replacing a mass with the void of a space,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

Though normally Death is precise in his way,
with scythe and with time leaving none of a trace,
we caught him on film and there he will stay.

I'd rather Death took all our pictures away
and left my dear brother right here in his place,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

Yet brother's now gone, he's been taken away,
and though with these pictures he can't be replaced,
we caught him on film and there he will stay,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

Oh, in this way, my grief, I fight:
with my soul's deepest groans,
I write and write and write and write.

I write all day and write all night,
in melancholy tones.
Oh, in this way, my grief, I fight:

with words that growl and snap and bite.
And, pining for those lovely bones,
I write and write and write and write,

for all that's left within my sight's
the covering of hand-placed stones.
Oh, in this way, my grief, I fight:

by sun's and candle's waning light,
expressing pain through trembling moans,
I write and write and write and write.

For brother I will grieve tonight,
he's left me all alone.
Oh, in this way, my grief, I fight:
I write and write and write and write.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

our wedding album
shoved into my hands
her memories
wiped off the shelves
to start a new collection



(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Some say the world will end--2012.
Can count the years remaining on one hand.
How will we deal, how will we all survive?
Who cares? It doesn't matter, not at all.
For death is death, no matter how you go.
And once your heart stops, and your brain shuts down--
a curtain call, the lights dim down, that's it,
and all your fears extinguish with your eye.
Why fear the rumored, what may come some day?
Why fret about the quakes, the floods, the fires,
the falling skies, the screams and crying eyes?
The bus may hit you in the morning light.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

your name is written
on a strand of your hair

if i could read your name
and utter it
conjure it
you would be

physically
how i knew you
but

in every other way
someone else

for who you were
is more than your name
all that you experienced
made you who you were
and who you were
could never again
be conjured
by the hand of man
but by the hand of God alone.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

autumn wind
the hand grasps
air
devoid of it
death is as elusive

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

clear night sky
among countless stars
i seek just one
where have you gone
little brother?

reaching up
to touch the stars
this distance
now between our souls
the vast expanse of space

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

Our friends, they see your eyes in mine,
our special sideways glance,
I am your echo left behind,
and every often chance,
I catch them looking in my eyes,
discerning you from me,
when tears well up in their own eyes,
it's only me I see.

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

old mother
bent over
the grave
seems closer
this year



(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

She speaks in figures, nuances,
          in subtle hint-drop rain,
the truth's in what she never says,
          her spoken words are vain,
for nothing heard is what it seems,
she'll only hint at what she means,
          to hold a dialogue is quite insane.

So when a question grabs her mind,
          to ask it she'll refrain,
instead she'll traipse around, behind,
          from side to side in pain,
to ask ten questions unrelated,
avoiding that one unabated,
          all questions leading to that single, main.

Frustration builds at every step,
          with every question asked,
for every one such question shlepped
          around's a weighty task,
I answer all and each reply,
confounds her every subtle try,
          for none of them fulfill the one not asked.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

open skies
love birds fly off
on the mind
empty tree branch
where we sat under



(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

cloud writing
across the sky
i seek his face

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

When growing up I pushed away my father's molding hands,
     asserting I was different than he was and was my own,
     yet I allowed my friends to mold me, there I had been hewn,
     becoming them in function form and every fiber strand.
I disappointed him who spawned me from his very *****
     and saw me henceforth as a stranger living in his home.
     At last resigned to this demise he hid his hands and tone.
     I had betrayed my maker for a sack of thirty coins.
Far later I'd returned to him a prodigal old son,
     and hinted, showed and sang and danced his many favored tunes.
     Disinterested he questioned it.  No longer did he care.
These days I search my father's mind, though now it's surely gone,
     and seek those ancient treasures gone by very many moons,
     and wish he'd know that I am him though he's no longer there.

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos

the cat waits
beyond his door
an empty room
where he still spends his time
in my memory

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos

For every soul my soul does meet,
     they are a soulmate on their way.
I am the sole pressed under feet,
     replaced when fully worn away.
We are both sole-mates, they and I,
     most symbiotic, as you see.
And when they leave I carry nigh,
     the scent of memories of we.

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos

The clay *** on the shelf that one day fell,
     And broke to shards and splinters of itself,
     Bemoaned its fate, bewailed its shards to tell
     The other pots of clay upon the shelf:
"Oh, help my rotund but so stricken frame!"
     "And meld the cracks and all the parts of me!"
     "Behold the mess I am, behold my shame!"
     "For what am I if I can't hold my tea?"
Oh, silly ***, what are these things you say?
     Who knows you better than your planner-plotter?
     Yet you confide in other pots of clay?
     Why not instead confide in your Potter?
They cannot help others if not themselves,
So seek the one beyond the pots and shelves.


(C)2020, Christos Rigakos

Inquire not of me, nor of my life!
     All knowledge, by instruction, is withheld.
     Our blood line cut, your kin no more my wife,
     your right to know by your own hand dispelled.
Your silence had you ousted from my heart,
     when I besought your most beloved names.
     Your hush kept me at bay, and us apart,
     as I sought you, my son-ship you disclaimed.
Now if perchance a thought of me has raised,
     please quick extinguish it and mind me not.
     Why resurrect the ghost of one you've razed
     upon your kin's request, and made as naught?  
True love, when born, has immortality;
when false it lives only conditionally.

(C)2018, Christos Rigakos

With water, malt, and yeast, and hops I dare
to craft an odd new ale with full due care
I've aged in hickory and old oak jugs,
and serve a round in handcraft German mugs,
to all the patrons drinking at this pub,
yet most just sniff and snortle up a snub.
Instead they order shots of foam-frothed ****,
imbibe and guzzle to their drunken bliss,
then slur a slew of sloshed-up limericks.
And to my ale they kick against the ******.

I send her roses each and every day.
     She asks for reasons, they don't satisfy.
     This heart's expression is my only way
     to answer each and every question, why?
She plants each one inside a large glass vase.
     It fattens in its bulky green-red width.
     She waters it hourly just in case
     this bulk shrivel by one rose-breadth.
In truth they have no petals and no stem,
     no color and no subtle fragrant scent.
     The vase is her awareness of them.
     They are but words of love my passions sent.
For I am but a poor and broken soul,
whose love for my dear love raises me whole.

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos

I travel nightly to and fro on windswept sandy dunes,
and watch the far side of the moon, for it won't face me here.

I hear the Mourning Dove start sighing meloncholy tunes
in morning light, which starts too soon, and always finds me here.

I ponder life so quizzically, and contemplate the rhunes,
for I must never ask the Moon, whose silence chills me here.

Behind the glowing clouds that veil the fine majestic moon,
the bride awaits beloved groom, as I stand watching here.

"I am your mate, have you forgotten, my dear silent Moon?"
"We are a single flesh, in tune.  Why have you left me here?"

"Your face aloft and turned away, to stars you wail and croon,"
"and seek your other now lost Lune, while I am waiting here!"

Her farthest edges faintly glow. I'd pay to watch her swoon,
to my heart's rhythm late in June, yet I'm imprisoned here.

My chest, that swells by what I knew of times our love did bloom,
deflates remembering its doom, and I am stranded here.

"Too high to reach, in clouds cocooned, my far beloved Moon,
return to me on Earth and soon, or find my bones still here.

(C)2020, Christos Rigakos