A collaborative collection of poetry and image between the artist, Eva Redamonti, and poet, Anastasios Karnazes. 

Anastasios is a writer and poet based in New York City. For inquiries he can be reached at






Aluminum Coffin

Not dead, fleets of ghosts

Pass all the time. Here

Is one now. What you


Used to call stars. What

I know now to be

Souls. And if I had


Remembered to pack

My fishing pole, I

Would have waited for


Yours to float along—

Bait the hook with your

Favorite food. Cast


The Egg and Cheese on

Everything outside

The ship. Of course I


Forgot to bring the

Pole. And I forget

Most other things too

Two Images.jpg






Two Images

If windows are in truth for looking beyond, Or

Rather if they are for casting light on the floor


At night the ships wait Your faint hair glows

Out past the waves Framed by streetlight

Heavy//still Spectral//quiet

Wrong_Type_of Birthday_Final.jpg

                   This Birthday Party


Where we eat


Lots of cake sprinkle


Cakes while we suppose


Our grandparents


Died and caked first


Then parents caked and


Died but frosting too


Cakes but we keep


Eating cake until we


Too die happy





At times I think


Of slipping a quarter


Into the slot of a payphone


Like throwing a coin


Into a grave just to hear


The clink it makes


I imagine the clink


In the payphone sounds


Like the clink in the grave


Both echoing useless


Empty death sounds


Will the Heavens Soon Open up for You?

I am eleven, and I open the wooden door into the abandoned house. The floor is grey and dusty and it’s too bad cause I’d love to lay down but I look around and find some shattered light bulbs homeless people or old spirits probably did stuff with. Downstairs there are scattered photographs on an even dustier floor and they are kind of scary so I go back upstairs. To my surprise the light bulbs are still here and still shattered. I go outside now and it’s dark but the rough sidewalk and wet grass are definitely also still the same.

Will the Heavens Soon Open up for You_Final.jpg

At some point I stopped getting surprised that things remain still like this

Like my feeling at every moment that you have already vanished.










A flossy caterpillar

Embarks on the journey

To the//tomb where//

Webs of//moss hang


Cleanse me, oh Lord

Of this soul. The embalming

Of the body

I struggle to renounce


The old count their

Teeth with the





Tongues/I too







Perishing is most//painful for

Those//That wish for death



Some Kind of Abstinence

Gone light of East Boston

Did it sail away with the boat

Into a dark blue abyss—


Shrimp and krill call it “Sun” and

Yearn looking out the bedroom


Window I’m still waiting for your

Rice Krispy treats to finish baking

Perhaps the light is having a


Smoke out on the porch. I get up from

My balmy nap and walk past the hot oven,

Past that brown evil couch, to you


Our breaths join sometimes, though

I wish they hadn’t. “There is the boat!”


You cry. It’s rusted hull like a rotting pet

Goldfish. I turn to you and your hair is so thin

Some Kind of Abstinence_Final.jpg
Falling Asleep On the Train_final.jpg


Falling Asleep On the Train

The big green rain

Drops against the concrete

I think it’s obvious I think

The rain will win the fight

If there is a winner

I think the rain will win

The fight splashes

Grey waves against

The window droning

Me to sleep but

I am not supposed to

Fall asleep yet not

But I to sleep yet

I swear I think

Sleep is so rebellious



Meaning to Thank You for Dinner

Of course I am grateful

You turned off the TV

I stopped paying attention

To whatever was playing

And anyways screens feel

Like they stare back when

They aren’t being watched

I wouldn't’ have liked feeling

Watched with your desires

Dripping past my throat

Down my chest and drying on

My hips I wouldn’t have liked

Feeling watched when you

Took my mouth for yourself

Nobody would have liked that

This mouth was meant to sing

With the radio and to gossip while

You made pineapple chicken

And to drink orange soda this

Mouth wasn’t meant to be yours

I think this mouth was meant to

Eat the pineapple chicken and

I wish it could thank you for it


In Your Arms

Might I awake in your garden

And find myself fruitless--



“In God’s Arms”


I am something non-human

Perhaps even non-animal


I step stone by stone

Through the walkway-- scouring the


Jungle floor for mice and bugs     a


And He holds my tail




There At the Grocery Store

The cashiers wave and speak

Slowly and the damn knotted

Nest of shopping carts squeak

Like dying rats when they skate

The smooth tile. Sunbeam White

Slices with those blue eyes

That remind you of me, “I’m

Not the bread girl.” You


Laugh in the produce aisle

While I pick a bundle of tall green

Asparagus stalks and walk my

Way to the steaks//Honey

I know I know//I’m fixing Thursday’s

meal//And for twenty years I won’t be here