It's a string entangled tale

It’s a string entangled tale not this or that ear-
catching smolt of myth,
e.g. the part man part bull issue of queen Pasiphae
pinched from the eukaryotic soma of Minoan Crete,
or the daughter cells of myth,
e.g. Theseus-Ariadne, Daedalus-Labirynth, Ikarus-flight …
et cetera, et cetera,
but the genus of mute impulse for myth,
this fresh-water, unifying by division
unseen process
which rolls in with the replication of man’s ghost signature
and by polarization and attraction split-spurns the alevin man
to upstream bipolar fish-tail kinesis –
a mitotic adventure entailing ultimate division
and a roiling desire to return to Mother.

It's the political pit-bull fights

It's the political pit-bull fights
That burn the forests of my heart:
In chambers Parnitha and Corinth,
The ascending Pelion
And the descending Nafplion,
All up in Green and Blue flames.

Pitiful politicians through windows
Of self-ridicule gabble in flaming tongues
Over each other’s unlabored works and days –
Monuments of incompetence and corruption.

It is the kiss of the Ephialtes in modern Greece
That razes to the ground
And raises to the cross
This country of the burning bush of myth.

Hail to thee, Hellenic Republic, hail!