Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

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excerpt

“They’re family. That’s different.” Ula stood up at the sound of footsteps and tumbling
pebbles just above their perch. It was Brother Ailan.
“You two are out early. Brother Rordan, Finten’s been looking for you. You
skipped morning prayer again.”
“Thanks Ailan. If I didn’t have you to look out for me, how would I possibly survive?
We’ll be there for breakfast.”
“You had better hurry then or Brother Keallach will eat your share. I’ll make sure
he leaves some for you, little sister.”
Ula smiled at the chubby monk. “Thanks Brother Ailan. We’re coming.” She offered
a hand to Rordan and pulled him to his feet.
Rordan and Ula allowed Brother Ailan to get well ahead of them before following
back to the Brothers’ lodge. For the first time in many weeks, the Native village
appeared to be deserted except for Finten, Ailan, Keallach, Bjorn, and Ari who stood
waiting at the lodge door until they saw Rordan and Ula arriving and Finten gave
the signal to enter. Once everyone was seated in the centre eating area, Ari produced
a steaming bowl of baked gull’s eggs and cod.
Father Finten intoned the grace.
Although Father Finten managed to rattle off the entire prayer, the first mouthfuls
were stopped short by shrieks and loud whoops coming from outside the Brothers’
lodge. Brother Keallach jumped up to look outside. “My God! We’re under attack.”
Bjorn grabbed a smouldering piece of wood from the breakfast cooking fire.
Keallach grabbed another and followed him through the door blanket with Ari, Ailan,
Rordan and Ula right behind. Finten didn’t follow but fell trembling to his knees,
seeking help from a Greater Power. No sooner were the six outside the lodge than each
was grabbed and clubbed over the head by warriors with partially shaved heads. Only
Father Finten remained behind, crying to God in whispered Latin,“Déus, salvam mé.”
Rordan came to with blood trickling down his face and into his open mouth.
Shards of pain stung his naked chest and privates. His hands were tied tightly behind
his back and he was standing, roped to a pole. He opened his eyes to a wild, painted
face before a blazing fire. The sky behind the face was filled with a million sparks.
Whoops and yelps of a hundred savage voices rent the air. Painted Face bobbed
up and down in front of him and banged a stick against a burning bough, sending
sparks to burn Rordan’s skin, shouting “Nikamu! Nikamu! Nikamu! Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi!”
Rordan gritted his teeth and shook his head to clear his thoughts amidst the
yowls. “Nikamu! Nikamu! Nikamu! Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi!” The warrior applied the burning
bough to Rordan’s hair and, as he felt the searing on his scalp, Brother Rordan
cried out the same “Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi!”
The warrior laughed and Rordan understood that he wanted him to sing. “Yi! Yi!
Yi! Yi! Yi!”
Again the flame singed Rordan’s scalp, and again he sang, more frantically than
before, Painted Face laughed and singed his scalp once more.
That song’s not helping. If I’m to die by fire, I will go out singing.
Rordan had one song he loved above all others. He raised his head, took a deep
breath and called out beyond the pain. “Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae, vita, dulcedo,
et spes nostra, salve.”

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The Circle

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excerpt

The vegetable garden is a large area at the back; located on the north side of
the property and sheltered by a fence to the north. Their house faces east so that
the garden is on the western part, with the western and southern sun hitting it
almost all day. On one side, William has a small area covered with plastic and
Evelyn tells Bevan that’s where they plant the tomatoes and eggplant which like
the heat and not rain.
“We get a lot of rain here, as you know, and tomatoes don’t do well in rain, so
he covers them every year. Everything else we plant is exposed to the weather.”
“What do you usually plant, Evelyn?”
“We grow everything, you name it; we grow potatoes, celery, leeks, beets,
Swiss chard, garlic, onions, greens for the salad, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers,
spinach, beans of three different kinds—oh, Bevan , everything is grown here,
believe me,” she says, quite proudly.
“In other words, you literally live off the land.”
“Yes, and you’ll see all that when you come this way next year.”
Bevan smiles, and it’s his turn to clear his throat. Evelyn looks at him and smiles.
“You’re not planning to come our way when you retire, are you, Bevan?”
“Well, to be honest, Evelyn, I haven’t given it any thought as yet; I have a few
things to do before I retire.”
“What do you still have to do, my brother? Isn’t it enough that you have given
this service of yours your whole life? Aren’t the tragedies that have taken place all
over the world in the last thirty years enough? However, I don’t want to go there
again and upset you; after all, you’re an admiral. Your job is to serve the armed
forces of this land.”
But Bevan doesn’t get upset with Evelyn. He has made peace with that side of
himself, and his sister doesn’t get him upset anymore. As a matter of fact, he’s at
such peace with himself lately that he feels just great, even when she talks harshly
about the army.
“Are you at peace with yourself, Bevan?”
He takes a deep breath and looks at the garden with all the vegetables they
grow. He sees his sister being so relaxed and in a state of complete satisfaction
with herself. He knows he’s in that same state also, but it’s very hard to explain
why. He knows why and that is good enough for the time being. When they read
in the papers later on what has transpired, they’ll understand. She’ll understand
why he’s at peace with himself at this time in his life.
“I am quite happy to see that you and William are in good health and in good
spirits, as always. I’ll make a point of coming back here again some time and then
perhaps we’ll talk about being at peace and all. Right now, I’m very happy to see
you are well, my dearest sister.”

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Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume II

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Suspicious Sleep
There, at the edge of the sky, just above the mountain peak,
a little star
announces its happiness, with a rhythmic though out of tune
voice
like the young fruit seller who sells the first summer
fruits
with a voice so convincing, almost deserted.
And you felt guilty because you didn’t have the urge
to respond. If you at least hadn’t seen,
hadn’t understood. Guilty, not counting
the guilt of others. You, all alone, put all the responsibility
on your shoulders
and you understood all your innocence. You went inside
so that you wouldn’t see anymore;
you got dressed and after you put on your shoes, you lied down,
and fell asleep.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562968

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0851M9LTV

Poodie James

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excerpt

“There’s no mistaking it, Mr. Mayor. I saw your face for fully
half a minute before you bucked me off and made your escape. I
have never forgotten your eyes, your distinctive eyes. I thought I
recognized you from the back of the hall when you spoke, but I had
to be certain. You know, indeed you know, what I’m talking
about.”
Torgerson glared across his desk at Engine Fred. “You expect
people to believe something dredged up from twenty years ago?”
Fred smiled. “I didn’t say how long ago it was, but your memory
is fairly accurate. It has been twenty-one years. Poodie James and I
were discussing it just this morning. As for people believing it, I
hope that it won’t be necessary for anyone to know. That includes
Poodie.”
“What do you mean?” Torgerson said.
“Poodie doesn’t know who beat him up. He doesn’t know who
attacked Old Sam, and he doesn’t know, as he puts it so simply,
why you don’t like him.”
Glowering at Engine Fred, Torgerson said, “I could have you
thrown out of here.”
“Yes, you could.”
Torgerson got up, turned around and stood looking at cars passing
on the street below. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know why you beat Poodie James when you were a
young man. I don’t know why you are persecuting him now. It
doesn’t matter. I want you to leave him alone, Mr. Torgerson. Just
leave him alone.”
Torgerson spun around and leaned across the desk. “I’ll tell you
why, mister. Because he’s a freak, an unclean little freak. He contaminates
the town. He should have left after he got his warning, but he
stayed here, dragging that wagon around, rummaging through peoples’
garbage, bothering children. All those things you said in the
hearing, all those things Gritzinger said, that’s crap. Poodie James is
nothing but a bum and a beggar. He’s bad for the town.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562868

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08W7SHCMV

Marginal

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Message
An arm waving
a message to you
the inexpressible
standing in your red gown
moonlight vaguely
shines on gleaming lips
wet tongue
caressing
my smooth skin of logic
night laments her
dark role
in the photosynthesis
of your absence
and my longing for you

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

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

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

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Today and Just Before
Today and just before light covers the sky
I hear bells chiming faraway in the city.
Bells that I hear as if they slowly spread evil
and solemnly stir the remaining darkness.
Where have I left my sweet childish heart?
In what era, in which bell’s chiming I’ve tied it?
In what era and today I’ve kneeled
on my weak knees and prayed?
A prayer to beauty, to the forgotten mother
to ignorance, the smile, the voice of a dream
listening to the saddened chime of the bell
today that talks of the untimely death.

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763459

Straits and Turns

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excerpt

He inspected the fire pit and felt the warmth coming from the ashes. He took some wood and restarted the fire, then his small saucepan from his backpack, filled it halfway with water and half a handful of sage tea, and set it over the fire to boil. He wondered what to do with the dead wolf. He ate a piece of his bread along with a cup of the hot, boiling tea.
The sun had climbed to its height on the eastern horizon. George decided to bury the wolf and took his club and a piece of wood and placed them on each side of the dead animal. He covered the wolf’s body with stones and rocks, which he put on top of the wolf’s grave, making a small mound that completely covered the dead animal.
Upon finishing his rite, he stood momentarily and looked at the grave mount. His mind ran to the time when he let a handful of dirt fall over the casket of his grandfather. It was his farewell. And today he said
farewell to the dead wolf by placing the last stone over the burial site.
He felt good. He smiled. Before leaving, he put out the fire, gathered his things, put the backpack on his shoulders, and walked away with a smile still lighting his face.

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

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

Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II

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Long-listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

2023 Longlist Announcement

Interception
He sat at the stairs, so serene, as though there was
not any fame in the world or like his father who, when
he died, he left alone, leaving his austere mask on the table;
then the day went by; time when the souls of drunkards
come back like flies on their empty glasses and the hallway
turns dark, so that the children won’t lie, and, oh sleep,
wherein we die leaving no footprints and only the blind
keep vigil with their hand over the dogs’ eyes groping
on the indifference of the streets.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4051627

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763564

Arrows

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excerpt

“Last night we entered it. You’ll be fine. I’ll send for a hen
everyday and have the cook make you broth,” I said, standing up.
He grabbed me by the arm.
“We have to get out of the ship fast. Someone could have
recognized the ship from land and sent word. Gather the crew on
deck. Make them swear on their mother’s head that no word will be
said about the plague. They’ll burn the ship if they know. Promise
me. No, swear it, on my head.”
I remembered what he had told me about the scarred man who
had friends in high places. I was already planning how to get us out
of Seville as soon as possible. But Bartolomé was so sick I wasn’t sure
he would survive much longer without proper care.
The river was busy with ships and boats of all sizes. The shores
were alive with people and beasts loading and unloading ships. It
took us several days to get to the appropriate place and, after
dropping anchor close to shore, Bartolomé’s page, the Canary, rushed
into the cabin and spoke in my ear. It was the worst news possible.
“What are you saying, boy?” I grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Who told you that?”
“The new bosun, Father. He says there is a party of guards, and
they have come to arrest the captain.”
“Arrest him?”
He shrugged.
“Tell the bosun to come.”
The Canary left, his whistling unnatural and tense.
The bosun arrived and confirmed it. The captain was to be
arrested. I didn’t have time to learn why. I looked at his greyish
countenance, hollow cheeks, cracked lips, eyes sunken in dark
circles. Bartolomé would never survive the Inquisition, much less a
civil jail.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Hours of the Stars

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Euroclydon*
We travel on a Roman galley
convicts and merchants and legionaries
the island of Pasiphae to our right and
straight ahead toward the sundown the eternal city
each of us with a bag of belongings
we carry a gift for our fiancée
hope and concern and overused hulls
silk and wedding gold for the marketplace
half way quite unexpectedly the tempest started
the typhoid wind from the Numibia sands
we tossed all our belongings into the sea
we wished just to be saved
but Euroclydon the great river with its opposite currents
isn’t appeased by supplications and cries
luckily we had amongst us one who by chance
made sure we remembered of the bread

  • Euroclydon – Northeastern wind

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562939

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763408