II Child
When I started growing up the trees horrified me,
why do you smile? Did your mind go to spring that
is so rough for children?
I liked the green leaves a lot
I think I learned a little at school because the blotting-paper
on my desk was also green
the roots of the trees tormented me when in the warmth of winter
they would come and coil around my body
I had no other dreams when I was a child
that’s how I came to know my body.
excerpt
…fifteen or so big commercial ships anchored in the bay, and on the
far side of the water at beautiful Stanley Park and further off the Kitsilano
district and the UBC lands to their right, the green thickets of
trees, the roofs of houses, the big apartment buildings, and above
them the airplanes descending slowly as they approached the airport
in flat, distant Richmond, all such familiar sights and yet as fresh and
fascinating every day as if never enjoyed before. Eteo and Ariana
seemed to register the view in the logbook of their souls, tuned to
the same sounds and echoes, to the same relaxation methods and to
the same fiery lovemaking, to the same thoughts and wishes. Their
souls were in tune.
The following Saturday Eteo picked Ariana up from her apartment
and drove to BC Place and the private room Pacific Trends had
rented for the year. A few other people were already there: the vice
president of Pacific Trends, Lucas Stonewall, and his girlfriend, Isabel,
the head trader John with his wife Ekaterina, the head of the accounting
department Dean Magnusen with his girlfriend and two other
women. While the introductions were in progress, Bradley came in
with his girlfriend, a woman of South Asian heritage called Pari.
Other guests soon followed, and in a few minutes the room was full.
The drinks flowed freely and everyone had something in their hands
while they chitchatted and laughed. Eteo sided up to Bradley and
proudly introduced Ariana to him
“So you’re the one who has brought a smile back to Eteo’s lips,”
Bradley quipped as he shook Ariana’s hand. “I’m very pleased to meet
you.”
Ariana only smiled and blushed at his comment.
Before the game started, Bradley took a moment to address them
all.
“I wanted to inform you that this week’s success goes to Eteo,
who introduced Pacific Trends to a new venture, Platinum Properties,
which has made the firm some good money already, and we hope
will make a lot more in the weeks and months to come. Cheers to
Eteo, then. This has been his week.”
“Not bad for a Cretan immigrant,” Bradley called out with a
laugh, “and yes, recommend Platinum to all your clients,”…
IMAGE
Come, beloved image,
come, my wife, accompany me,
stay close forever,
protect me from life’s pitfalls.
My only guardian angel,
counsel my steps and keep them safe,
and if I lose my bearings,
come light the way before me
Your light sustains my virtue
and preserves my faithfulness
because I know that you are mine
I feel you in my spirit
and know not how to call you,
whether my wife or my soul!
excerpt
Raising the Winchester 30-30 to his shoulder, he took aim at
the cat. Just as the crazed cougar moved forward, stalking the
unsuspecting filly isolated at the edge of the herd less than
twenty yards away, Joel took his shot. Crack! The dog yelled, the
horses scattered, and the cat’s body dropped to the ground. Without
waiting to see if a second shot was necessary, Joel flew out of
the house and raced to the tree line where he had last seen the
cat. Harry and Tanya chased after him. Then he saw it. The big
cat was dead. One shot through the head. His horses were safe.
But in a way Joel felt sorry for this poor wild beast that was so ill
that it had to risk its life to stalk his horses.
Harry pulled the cat out of the grass by the tail so they could
get a better look. Over six feet in length, the cougar was an older
male with his ribs pathetically showing, it would not have made
it through another cold winter in the hills. Joel had done himself,
his horses, his neighbors, and the cat a favor by putting it out of
its misery.
That night he called Cindy to report the day’s activities. The
two of them had started talking with each other late at night,
which gave Cindy time to spend with Lila after dinner. Joel knew
that Lila would always be number one in Cindy’s life. He liked
that in a woman. Over the years, he had met women who were
willing to leave their children, some emotionally, some physically,
to be with a man, and he knew that was wrong. No matter
where his relationship with Cindy went, he knew that, at best, he
would be number two in her life. And that was a good thing.
excerpt
“You’re not eating much, Aunt Millie. Perhaps that’s your trouble.
Don’t you feel hungry?”
Millie had smiled and got up to put preserved peaches and peanut
butter cookies on the table. “Just a result of feeling weary, nothing
more. Don’t worry yourself, dear boy. I’m fine.”
But she had not convinced him, and the thing he had been hoping
to talk to her about – Rachael’s problematic friendship with Lyssa –
had been put off. He knew he couldn’t burden Aunt Millie further,
even if she was, as she said, just tired.
Ronald turned over in bed – again – and looked at his alarm
clock. Almost midnight! He may as well have gone to the dance in
Spirit Lake after all, except that he didn’t have a date. Not that it mattered
much, but his friends were all dating now and he didn’t want to
appear more of an outsider than he already knew he was. Sometimes
those same friends razzed him for not drinking or smoking. He had
tried smoking when he was fourteen but decided he would rather be
an outsider than suffer the choking and coughing that resulted from
his first drag on a cigarette. They also razzed him occasionally for
going to church, especially Morley’s church.
“Holy Rollers,” they would say with disdain. “Hey, Harrison,
what do they do in that church, anyway?”
And more than once Ronald, refusing to be riled or offended, had
answered, “Why don’t you come see for yourselves?”
With the realization that in just a few hours he would be getting
up to go to church, Ronald sighed, settled his head more comfortably
on the pillow and tried to put Aunt Millie, Rachael and every other
thought out of his mind.
ͣͣ
Tyne closed her Bible and placed it on the bedside table, being careful
not to disturb Morley who had been asleep for some time. Rachael
must be due home, but so far Tyne hadn’t heard her come in.
OCEAN’S MARCH
Leave us only
the night’s ecstasy
when the children fish for stars
in the snow white caiques
when naked and handsome ephebes
stare straight at beauty’s eyes
without suspicion or fear
Return to us
the paper ships
to moor in a well known harbor
of our first homeland
For a moment
we shall kneel on the sand
and we shall pray
in front of our indomitable shadow
while the sea’s sad Virgin Mary
will quietly open the front door of the church
and will lean to kiss our hair
drenched by the slender dew of stars
of silence and of the night
Although we
shall again deny
the kiss of love
that soothes and ties…
excerpt
…wheeler-dealer in twentieth century wreckage, the magus who re-discovered
the Lore of the Brazen Head.
Even now I must pay for my faery-land humours, for Jago will be soon lumbering
over with his medical mafiosi, to wake up the sleeping beauties; to make
a special brain check on ugly old pseudo-Rabbinical Freakbeard.
For fuck’s sake, Wolfbane! I’d only just got Jago off my back. And then you
came across to peer over my shoulder, you burst into a sniggering fit, your
greaselocks whirling . . .
“Why waste your time inventing a new religion?” you shouted, so that the
whole Day Room could hear, even poor Eamonn, who looked up anxiously
from his week-old Catholic Herald, thinking more new sins for Eamonn,
omigod . . .
“The teachings channeled via the Order of the Brazen Head are not a religion.
They’re fragments of a system for magically transforming reality. I’m
well on the way to rediscovering it.” I was angry but remained in full control.
He obviously wasn’t accustomed to dealing with an authentic adept.
“Sounds like Harry Houdini to me. All these old blokes in robes climbing
into magic compartments. The disappearing cabinet gimmick. Mummy case,
magic casket, fakirs in igloos, it’s all the same. Ancient stuff. I’ve been doing it
for years. Watch me now. I can mash potato, I can do the twist . . .”
He did a little sing-song dance routine, not the head banging heroics everyone
associated with the Hrothgar videos, more like a twirly number from some
old Motown tour. He spun so fast he was a blur of hair.
“Why are you in here, Wolfbane? ”
“It was headline news,” he muttered, “and everybody in the business knew
about it.” He seemed offended that I didn’t know. “Anyway, I know all about
you now. You’ve abandoned your wife and child, right? Abandoned them, to
be lost in space, on the dead planet, to be eaten alive by robots. While you
bummed off to write letters to aliens. What kind of an alibi is that, I ask you? I
was a dragon-slayer. You were just a worm . . .”
He’d never suffered under PP, the All-Devourer, She Who Hath Gnawed
Out the Sweetness of My Entrails.
“When you see the finished Book of the Lore, Wolfbane, you’ll see I was
given no choice, I made the best decision in the circumstances, and when I’ve
finished my life’s work, you’ll see . . .”
“You’ll never finish it. That’s your bloody alibi, isn’t it? Just do it to death.”
He repeated it several times—do it to death—wrote it across the wall…
Teacher
It was a foggy day when, like students, we entered
the school; found the teacher writing on the board
something narrating a familiar fable which we found
tasteless. The teacher welcomed us, especially the initiate,
who always inspired admiration with His graceful persona,
His stature and it was as if He led us to a garden full
of bloomed flowers, playful butterflies hanging from
threads of air, colorful spring, and the teacher repeated
to his students, ‘attention children attention, it isn’t
often that we have such a special visitor’, Übermensch
laughed and obviously pleased He said: ‘these students
are tomorrow’s Übermenschen.’
The Statue
Which statue hides in the marble?
Which arm
holds, in the unknown future, the chisel
that is ready to give birth to it?
Which time uterus, which lust
prepare the unexpected
flowering that comes
amid pains?
Which not-moulded hammer
strikes the sound of pulse
who’s the sleepy night guard
who will open the museum?
Which memory, which descendant
turns his arm toward the statue
who dictates the dead person’s arm
sleeping in the marble?
Which unknown, future hand
will then become chisel
to chisel it?
What If
What if you stopped staring out
from the blue window
reversed your sight path
and from the balcony
gaped at house’s innards
spied into
secret space of summer sofa
no need
to whisper for pillow
or reddish throw while loving
on the bare tiles
dawn lights a candle
in front of the saint’s lean icon
what if you with void eyes
saw green raw forms
red layered forest
and in the chiaroscuro of first light
you gazed without gazing?
Manolis Aligizakis 