Stilpo, once a citizen of Megara, about a half-hour drive from Athens, sought a life of tranquillity and had that taken from him. Demetrios Poliorkitis, by accounts a handsome and clever king, understood after he had conquered Megara that Stilpo – whom he regarded as significant – had suffered. He summoned Stilpo and begged to restore his losses. But Stilpo, paraphrasing Homer, said no, no cattle or horses of his were stolen, no element of his education or any possession of his inner being was lost. How could it be? What Stilpo valued most, force and violence could not touch.


The Forum des Halles, Paris

1
Each farmer knew the land in Megara.
Holm oak, plane tree, alder.
Cecropian bees drank from the yew.
We threw the honey out. As a boy,
I was lost in the grove of Alkinoös,
daisies and grass, pale quinces.
The glade before they hacked
trees and went after Paris.
I was promised a small kingdom,
some safety from outside.
Soldiers came for us. Be death with me,
I said, here is the spot.
Five months’ wading, coastguard,
cousins overseas. The tourist
who doesn’t know what he wants
...