In the Quiet After Slaughter

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Moments later Freddy’s older brother Gus came charging out the
back door. He was shirtless. Nelson Monroe, also naked above the
waist, was in pursuit. A three-masted schooner, as Freddy had
claimed, was tattooed across his hairless chest.
Nelson caught up to Gus at the back of the yard and shoved him
face-first to the ground. Mrs. Monroe pushed open the kitchen window.
– Please, Nellie! she whimpered. No!
Mr. Monroe buried a knee between Gus’s shoulder blades and
forced his arms behind his back. Then Mr. Monroe unhooked his
belt and began whipping Gus like a dog. Leather bit into skin —
thwack! thwack! thwack! The muscles in Gus’s shoulders rolled in protest.
– Four! Five! Six! Nelson Monroe chanted. He exhaled in short,
evenly paced bursts like someone performing calisthenics.
– Seven! Eight! Nine!
Freddy tried to intervene. Nelson tossed him aside like a wet
towel.
– Ten! Eleven! Twelve!
Freddy ran to the fence separating the yards and pleaded with
Mrs. Sanderson, who was working in her garden.
– Help us! Freddy pleaded. He’s not our real dad!
Mr. Whitley silenced his mower. Ed Tyson across the alley
watched from a stepladder. When Freddy appealed to them, Mr.
Whitley disappeared inside his basement. Mr. Tyson looked away.
Gus wriggled free and crawled away like wounded game. A
wrong righted, Nelson Monroe threaded the belt back through the
loops of his trousers. His forehead glistened with perspiration.
Heavy breathing made the schooner heave: rough seas.
My next recollection was of Gus marching along Mons Drive, that
pirate patch of a birthmark bright as a blueberry. Freddy and I followed
on bicycles. The pavement baked under a noon glare.
Neighbours abandoned their chores as Gus filed by, tears welling
in his eyes.
– Hang in there, Gus, someone said.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562874

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897971

HEAR ME OUT

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

When I Fall In Love
You shouldn’t have left me, my love!
I’ve come back home now and I can’t relax.
I still think of you; I’m dizzy from your presence next to me for so many hours.
Now I hear the blackbirds sing and still I can’t fall asleep.
And I can’t believe that a man goes crazy for the aroma of a flower the way I do.
I get drunk with the thought that you’ll be my next “past lover”… the one who will teach me all over my new habits that will turn into bittersweet memories again.
Like the sweet you offered my on a spoon not long ago.
The will turn me mad in the future and make me suffer the same that turns me wild now.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562946

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

Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Long-listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

2023 Longlist Announcement

Family Gathering
However how long had I stayed there? And where
that there was — while here the hours passed almost quietly
only that every so oen you had to choose something or
the rain would start and the heaviest of the servant girls
would get up and bring inside the prophecy or father, who
worrisome, looked at us as if he was guilty that things
wouldn’t talk to us; secretly the clock controlled the house
leading the girls to hiding or mother to her separate room;
but at night the crickets, lying on old caskets, sang to the sick
children and the fool up on the roof wanted all the sleep
to herself until the bloodied moon leaned on the hill like
the poet onto this ancient alphabet.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4051627

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

Marginal

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Chromatism
Dusk paints the sky with a diaphanous
chromatism before you can see
the stars sparkling matches and
Bic lighters while the naked oak
stares as the young falcon ruffles
his feathers and clips his talons
“Bring me a soft feather and a wing”
you cry in agony
as the petals of gardenia flowers
decide to turn yellow and signal
their wish for an end
like the rainbow wishes
for the end of rain and
the chrysanthemum laughs
out of embarrassment as you pull
the chair closer to sense my sighs
which settle here once and all
the short laughs heard nearby
when the moon stands alone
in the firmament and the sin was a myth
“Call me a messenger and get
my love letter to her tender box”
you shout yet the worm is implanted
in the apple and Eros is turned
into a curse like Phaethon was turned
to a devil at a convenient moment
peace spent and many bodies
sat here on this chair that still bows

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

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

Arrows

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“How can you do this?” She said, breathing hard, with bitter
contempt. I felt that I had her pinned with a spear against a wall.
“Urquía and Matyba were right. They warned me. You are a white
man, and I’m just an Indian. I was foolish to believe You.”
She fought to keep her dignity. She stood up. “I will take herbs to
kill your spirit in me. That way You will not have to return here.
That way I will never have to see you again.”
“You mustn’t! That would be an even greater sin. Please, if you
love me at all, please, please, Apacuana. I beg you . . . you cannot do
that. You cannot kill the life that might be inside you.”
“But you can? You are killing me right here.”
Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes and the corners of her
mouth drooped. I felt my determination falter; my voice was thick
with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry. Were I not a man of God, I’d be with you until the
moon falls from the heaven, but I can’t. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“The Spanish kill with the sword,” she said. “And the Spanish kill
with the word.”
And so she left, in sorrow and anger. I saw her slowly walk away
and disappear into the jungle. I remembered how sick I had felt
during the storm, as we crossed the ocean, locked in the bowels of
the ship, breathing the suffocating air, and this felt much worse.
Despite the miles of lush, green hills stretching before me, I felt I
could not breathe. The pain was choking me.
God, how I hated You that day.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

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

In Turbulent Times

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

‘Whatever. Who knows what’s true and what isn’t? But you know Flynn Casey. Always the rebel Republican. Loyal follower of James Connolly, his hero. His socialism got him involved with the IRA in strikes in Belfast in the Thirties. In fact he was shot in the leg during a march in the Lower Falls area that led to clashes with the police. Three years ago he was interned in Crumlin Road jail after that IRA campaign of protest against the arrival of the American forces.’
‘I remember that,’ said Seamus. ‘De Valera considered the arrival of the Americans an intrusion on Irish territory. And he was born in America himself. New York, if I remember rightly. And his father was Spanish. What a mad world we live in, Caitlin.’
‘Let’s hope the real madness is over now, Seamus.’
‘Amen to that. So what’s Flynn doing in Belfast? Apart from stirring up trouble.’
‘He’s managing a pub on the Falls Road, though he longs to be back in his Drumard hills. But he has Dermot in Belfast, and a grandson, if you can picture Flynn Casey as a grandfather.’
‘Happens to most of us,’ Slattery declared. ‘A grandson’ll keep him anchored in Belfast.’
‘Dermot married the youngest Sweeney girl, didn’t he?’ Michael said, without taking his eyes off the dancers.
‘And carried her off to the big city,’ Seamus replied. ‘They’re very happy there, so I’m told. Dermot has his own business as an electrician.’ Seamus paused momentarily. ‘Now there’s another good man gone. Ignatius Sweeney. Got out of bed one morning and dropped dead. And he hadn’t a grey hair in his head when he died. Still that short hair that stood straight up on his head. What your father described as the unravelled end of a rope. Good old Ignatius. I think he ate himself to death.’
‘That’s a terrible thing to say, Seamus Slattery,’ Caitlin chided.
‘Oh you know I didn’t mean it. A poor joke, Caitlin, and I shouldn’t have said it. Though old Ignatius might have enjoyed it. Violet, of course, went to Belfast to live with Dermot and Maire after Ignatius died, but I hear her health is not too good.’
‘I don’t think she ever got over Ignatius’s death,’ Caitlin said. ‘It was so sudden and unexpected.’
‘And Joe Carney’s another one,’ Seamus continued in his vein of In Memoriam. ‘His heart let him down. And young Joe. Joe-Joe we used to call him. Remember?’ Seamus leaned forward. ‘Remember the day you pulled him out of the harbour, Michael?’

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763270

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

For A Young Man Who Took His Life
For who was chased by a ghost
in the dark extensions of his life
his joys, his commitments in a flash
turned into pretenses for his ardor.
The beautiful books, his mind a starting
point, some moments violent lover
then his face turned mysterious
nothing next to him would match
a strange man who stayed
around us with a distorted face
he wouldn’t accept our suspicion
that something horrible was coming to him
he was strangely beautiful like those
who Death had already marked
he gave himself to every danger
as if someone had already claimed him.
They found him with a single
mark on his temple, he was
a total victory like the light
that sheds around it darkness.
He was simple and serene
a smiling reborn face
as if he had become a thank you
logos on the cross hairs of evil.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562951

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

Introspection

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Eternal Power
Savage freedom, primeval force, creative Monad enduring the tediously passing time that was his doctrine, the comfort for the thin man with the thick eyeglasses and the gigantic moustache
the Dionysian transcendence of normal and humble life, his dogma and his resolve to spread over the land, everywhere humble men found comfort, he saw rebellion, where they found solace, he found strength to stand up and demand renewal and constant change. Anywhere the humble men accepted only the useful, he accepted only the dangerous and renewing eternal retribution, eternal re-wording; he sought to live the life of his beloved Übermensch

https://draft2digital.com/book/4118210#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763777

Straits and Turns

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

…the moment if they didn’t interfere with his driving them to their destination.
On the other hand, could he ask them to stop? Why, could
they answer, and what could he say to such a question?
Strange beast, the human mind, as it went from one thing to
another, like a crazy monkey who jumped from one branch of a tree
to another, just like Costa’s which ran to his good trip back at the
Four Seasons to which he was eager to reach on time, so his customer
wouldn’t get impatient and take a different cab to the airport. He
looked at his watch: his time was just fine; finally, he arrived at the
Cypress Bowl, and he realized that his customers in the back were half
dressed and half not, such was their erotic oestrus during the trip…
upon realizing that they had arrived at their place they quickly fixed
their clothes, the man paid the driver and taking his half-dressed
sweetheart by the waist they walked to the front door of their place.
The driver said goodbye to them and started his return to the
city of Vancouver and to the Hotel where he arrived earlier than the
time we had agreed with the smoker. However, Costa saw his customer
waiting in the lobby. Costa walked over, grabbed his bag, put it in the
trunk, opened the back door for him, and started the trip to the airport.
Around the sixteenth and Granville, they started the usual little
talk, “Where are you from? How long have you been here? Etc. Costa
informed his customer that he came from Hellas and had lived here for
six years. The customer mentioned that he was a Turk, from Ankara,
on his way to Los Angeles for business. Oh, God, what just happened?
The earth started swirling around like a wind vane, like a top on a flat
surface. And all this buzzing noise was like a swarm of bees in Costa’s
head, as if desperately looking for honey. Endless pounding against
his two temples turned that buzzing noise into a thundering hatred.
In which school have they taught him to hate this man so much? In
which church have they turned him into such a fanatic? How many
eons of anger and hatred has he lived, and why is he in such a dreadful
condition? How was it possible that all his ancestors had resurrected
and stood before him demanding revenge? Why all this hatred today,
and why have all his ancestral parents, brothers, and sisters awakened…

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

Fury of the Wind

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

He threw his head back and laughed. But it wasn’t a mirthful
sound. “In Nimkus? That’ll be the day.”
He gulped his coffee, pushed his chair back roughly and went
out. Sarah stared after him, unaware that two tears were sliding
down her cheeks. O
The road to the neighbours proved to be little more than a cow
trail across the adjoining farms. Flicka’s hooves scattered yellow
petals of black-eyed Susans as she trotted over the dry pasture land.
Due to Ben’s warning, Sarah became especially cautious when they
reached the path along the ravine. But she need not have worried,
because Flicka navigated it with a sure-footed gait, and ignored the
brush covered bank that fell away to the gully a hundred feet below.
Only a thin ribbon of murky water was visible at its base, but Ben
said that after a heavy rain it became a gushing river.
Another quarter mile along the path, after rounding a poplar
bluff, Flicka came to a halt at a barbed wire fence that obviously
divided the Fielding and McNeill properties. Sarah dismounted to
open the prairie gate. The farm site was now visible, and she could
see that they were approaching it from the back. A country road ran
close by the front of the two-storied white frame house. The house
itself stood in the shade of a grove of maple trees.
A windmill stood sentinel between the house and the outbuildings,
and Sarah felt a pang of envy when she realized that their
neighbours had electric lighting. This farm seemed a sharp contrast
to the ones she had seen on the road from Nimkus. Every outbuilding,
from the smallest shed to the imposing hip-roofed barn,
sported a dark red coat of paint.
They came to another gate and, as Sarah prepared to dismount,
she saw a man wave to her from where he had been bending over
the engine of a red tractor.
“Hold it,” he called, “I’ll get the gate for you.”
As he walked towards her, closely followed by a brown and white
mongrel dog, Sarah could see that this was not Dave McNeill. Although
tall, he appeared shorter than Dave, and his curly hair was
darker although definitely auburn. But when he grinned up at her
where she sat astride Flicka, she could see the features were …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530