The Circle

Excerpt

HAKIM IS UP VERY EARLY this Wednesday morning, and following his half
hour of meditation, sits at his workstation to communicate with his uncle. It’s
about seven in the evening in Baghdad, and someone must be at home; he hasn’t
heard from them in the last couple of days and is concerned. They must have
some news by now; the tests were to be done a few days ago.
“Hello there, my uncle, how are you?”
“Hello Hakim.” Rassan answers.
“Hi, Rassan; where is everybody?”
“Mara is at the hospital with Ibrahim; she stays overnight to keep him
company. They had tests done yesterday and today; it doesn’t look good.”
“Tell me, what were the test results?”
“They did a couple of scans and detected two small tumors—a tiny one in his
liver and a bigger one in his pancreas. They are to do biopsies tomorrow and then
we’ll have answers.”
“How is he? Is he in pain?”
“Well, in the hospital he is not in pain as they have him on painkillers; I don’t
know how he will feel when he gets home, if they allow him to come home.”
“Is he that bad that you think he may not come home soon?”
“I don’t know Hakim, I’m not the doctor. We’ll see; what I know is when he
was here the last few days he was in pain constantly.”
“Thanks Rassan, I’ll reach you again tomorrow about the same time. Make
sure you are around to give me an update of how things are. If need be, I may
come over for a few days to keep Mara company.”
“She’s going to be very happy to see you, I’m sure.”
“Say hello to both of them, and pass on a message to my uncle from his friend
Bevan, who sends his regards.”
He turns the computer off and puts on a robe; Jennifer is still asleep in the
bedroom.He walks to the balcony and looks at the weather in Los Angeles; clouds
cover the sky, in the same way that they cover his heart with this latest news. The
temperature is around 15 degrees; a pleasant temperature for the time of the year.
He has to go to the office and check on things; the business has been going a bit
better the last couple of weeks and Peter Bradshaw is very excited about a new…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy

…And I, amid
the rage and rattle of people,
unaccustomed to a father
and unfamiliar with
a mother, free of all caresses,
stood like a fresh branch of
a not pruned, ageless,
fruitless, deep shaded tree;
barefoot riding a black
stubborn mule, alone tried to
discover who I was (no other
could had ever guessed it) who
covered my essence with a
cloth knitted by the morning dew
and by the hands of rosy dawn…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D3LP7NW6

Entropy

The Thread of Depth

…I’m still here
on the path that turns before it vanishes
for good into the legend
with you reading these verses
about the utopia we call life built on pain
the fake knowledge of history
where each word tries
to come out of the speechless
generations sail out to the ocean
without choosing the time
they wander from craft to craft
been in the dream
up to the end of the dark lust
a world that distances itself
time before and after time
where you belong, they never say goodbye
the stars learn to survive
but not to love
don’t expect replicas
the thread of the depth transcends you
seed of a seeder that sprouts
into mortal eternities
preplanning silence and distance

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPCRLJC6

Rendition

…all corners of the plain
torching your territory
innocent blood of the first
seethes for revenge as
you lie here in the dark
unnamed lane facing
sky from where your first moon
arched over
trash bin in its solitude
shadows your good fortune
with stale piss
and sick fumes
diners laugh at irony on
menu-board bison steak
with wild berry reduction
Arch of canoe
emerges in center of your pupil
while disembodied echo

https://www.amazon.com/dp/098107359X

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I

ROMIOSINI

They sat under the olive trees in early afternoon
sieving the gray light with their big
fingers
they took off their cartridge belts and measured the
anguish fitting the path of night
how much bitterness fits in the wild mallow’s knot
how much courage in the eyes of a shoeless child
holding up the flag
Past its time the last swallow remained in
the plains
weighed himself in midair like a black band
on the sleeve of autumn
Nothing else remained Only the burnt up
houses smoldering

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562834

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763076

Straits and Turns

Excerpt

…because one switch was turned against the direction of the engines
and Mike hadn’t seen it. He felt as if that splashing of the stone in the
little pool sounded as if someone had slapped him on the face, and he
accepted it with forbearance and patience, like another lesson in the
work he was doing for the big train company. Mike suddenly felt the
need to hide somewhere so others couldn’t see him as he was leaving
with a lowered head as if he had been defeated in the afternoon battle
of survival.
Time flew, and eventually Mike went home, where he narrated
the event to his wife and son, who started laughing at the imaginary
sight of a train engine on the ground. Mike felt a little lighter, and he
too started laughing without knowing why.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4250839#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763866

HEAR ME OUT

The Lost 1%
Finally you turned me into yourself, my love!
Or perhaps I’ve been this way all along unable to answer the same way when they tell me “I love you”. Unable to say, “me too…”, or “I also love you.”
The phrase almost reaches my lips but is not stated.
To observe other men with that sad and full of agony glance, the one I noticed in your eyes for a long time, and not being able to answer.
Now I can understand what you felt.
I feel the same way.
Now, I know what it means for the other person to expect something from your lips and you unable to utter a word.
And it is not that you don’t love the person, it’s not that you don’t care for them.
The opposite, you care and you hurt more so. But that 1 % that is missing, that you miss and without it the word isn’t said.
That 1 % you know you won’t ever find.
That, as if you came faulty out of the factory and you miss something, what you’ll never acquire and as a result you’ll never be able to give it to anyone.
And you’ll remain like Sisyphus to go up and down the mountain with the weight of love on your back, forever searching to unload it and to offer it somewhere.
70
But there will never be anyone to lighten up your load no one will ever walk along with you up the mountain and no one will ever give you a hand just to stop you from slipping down the slope.
Because simply you can’t grasp onto anybody’s hand you can’t grasp onto anything.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562946

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763807

George Seferis – Collected Poems

Stratis Thalasinos In the Dead Sea

…We are all like the Dead Sea
many fathoms lower than the surface of the Aegean.
Come with me and I’ll show you the landscape
In the dead Sea
there are no fish
there is no seaweed
nor sea urchins
there is no life.
There are no alive creatures
that have stomach
to feel hunger
that nourish nerves
to feel the pain,
THIS IS THE PLACE GENTLEMEN!
In the Dead Sea
contempt
is the property
of no one
other than the mind.
Heart and thought
congeal in salt
that’s bitter
they mix with
the mineral world.
THIS IS THE PLACE GENTLEMEN!
In the Dead Sea
enemies and friends
children and wife
and relatives
go and find them.
They are in Gomorrah
in the sea floor
very happy
and don’t expect
any message.
GENTLEMEN,
we carry on with our tour
many fathoms under the surface of the Aegean.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4279077#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

Titos Patrikios – Selected Poems

Requiem I

Difficult years of hunger and persecution
experiences that flowed together like water
then a door opened to our north
and we all scattered like dry leaves.
Yet, father, I now know you well
I see that cheap words and useless happiness
never touched your life, now that
your presence burdens me less and less
with each passing day.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562972

Marginal

Caricature
A bad imitation of a human,
faceless, like the company
he served, arrived and
hiding the packaged freedom
silently in his pockets
deaf freedom choked
from the excess lard he had
consumed in their last feast
sorrowful leftover of our old
glory and I, saddened by
the momentary loss of logic
leaned and smelled the tiny
jasmine flower, letting its
aroma fills my nostrils
emotional that I had become
to the point of tears: then,
it wasn’t far away anymore,
it wasn’t impossible. It was
here on the dusty sidewalk
here it was the Heavens
into which I surely entered

https://draft2digital.com/book/3747032#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771715987