The Unquiet Land

excerpt

the good life of the gentry kept her there, an eccentric about whom stories would be told long after her name was forgotten. Her son Finn, her fifth of six children, inherited his mother’s love of the mountains and the sea. The sea, however, is faithless and fickle and given to unpredictable outbursts of savagely bad temper. One Friday in January 1854, a large fishing fleet set sail from Carraghlin harbour in fine, sunny conditions. But some hours later those benign conditions changed dramatically, the tranquil sea turned tempestuous, and the fleet was storm-tossed in gales and driving snow. Thirty-six Carraghlin fishermen perished. Among them were Finn MacLir’s twin brothers. The date was Friday, the thirteenth.
That same year, 1854, Finn himself was a sailor on board the tea clipper, Gypsy Lady. Having crossed the South China Sea from the ancient walled city of Fuzhou with a full load of the first tea of the season, the clipper ship caught fire on the thirtieth of May in the Sunda Strait, off the coast of Indonesia. Aware that his crew were unable to control the raging fire, the captain took the decision to sink the fast, sleek ship. Some of the crew, including Finn MacLir, scuttled her by cutting holes on the waterline, and she sank in seventy-three feet of water.
Finn swashed through a life of Conradian adventures till 1880. Then the Land League, a political organisation founded in County Mayo in 1878 with the aim of helping poor tenant farmers to win back “the land of Ireland for the people of Ireland,” embarked on a campaign of violence across the ravaged countryside. The principal aim of the Land League was to abolish landlordism in Ireland so as to enable tenant farmers to own the land they worked on. So began the so-called Land War. Tenants refused to pay their rents, resisted evictions, attacked land agents. English-owned farms were burned, animals killed or maimed, haystacks set ablaze, the English owners set on like curs. The land-owning MacLir family, close friends of the land-usurping Hamiltons, was targeted. In one bleak October night old Brigadier Richard Hamilton was brutally butchered in his bed, and Finn’s father and older brother were locked in the barn behind their large house, and the hay-filled barn was set on fire. Bullets from the hill above kept any would-be rescuers away until the blazing barn collapsed in on itself and on the two hapless men within.
When his father and brother were murdered during the Land War disturbances, and both his sisters had married and moved to England with their husbands, Finn MacLir returned to Corrymore and took over the farm. He stayed on in the village, out of defiance, according to some;

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Titos Patrikios – Selected Poems

Irremovable Vision

After many postponements of our dreams
I’d always think of a smelting, knowledgeable furnace
with thousands of workers cleaning its teeth,
feeding it steel and coal.
A smelting furnace that will smoke as much
as we haven’t smoked the last few years,
that won’t cut its cigarettes in half
that won’t stop its craving half way
that will produce enough rebar
to tie together all the great scaffolds
that will reach up to the sky.

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L1TJNNF

Red in Black

Goal
Goal was to set them free
to liberate them from houses
from peaceful bucolic songs
from Saturday matinees
from solemn saunter in the parks
from silent high-noon meditating
our moto was to free them
from themselves
general said whimsically
and thousands of bombs fell
with unprecedented accuracy
replacement order emailed
to bomb factory, machines
in overdrive calibrating
new models, new explosive might
our moto was to liberate them
from their despicable peace

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Constantine Cavafy

The Favour of Alexander Valas
Ah, I am not upset that a wheel of my chariot
is broken, and that I lost this silly race.
With good wines and amid beautiful roses
I’ll spend the night. Antioch is mine.
I am the most glorified young man.
I am Valas’s weakness, his adorable one.
Tomorrow, you will see, they will say that the race was unfair.
(But if I were inelegant and if I had secretly ordered it,
the flatterers would have declared me winner,
along with my crippled chariot.)

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763823

Wheat Ears

Shrug
He sleeved his cold hands
shrugged his shoulders didn’t
see the prism bent by
leaden clouds
cursed for his bad luck pointed
to dark glass of his room
resembling empty sockets of
his skull
two different fates hover
one for him the one for others
staggering on flagstones
considering
café garbage bin
pile behind the pub

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKHW4B4S

Swamped

excerpt

“Well, don’t make it. There’s no need. Ariana is a woman I enjoy
being with, and that’s that.”
“I can’t believe you’ve gotten yourself involved with someone and
are even bringing her to the house and…” She left the sentence unfinished.
Eteo felt hot and flushed at hearing these words.
“You might have thought of that before you left.”
There was silence for several seconds. Eteo listened to her rapid
breathing, expecting the other shoe to fall at any moment. Finally he
said, “I’ve got to go, Roula. I’m very busy.”
“Don’t go, wait,” she pleaded. “You are not serious about this
woman, are you? In any case, you shouldn’t have her around my
sons.”
“As I said, Roula, where I have her is none of your business. You
have no right to tell me who I can bring to the house.”
“Oh God, have you forgotten all the years we lived together? How
could you?”
“You’re the one who left. Now leave me alone,” Eteo said and put
the phone down.
Now he really needed to relax, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He
turned toward the eastern horizon again, feeling as gloomy as the
cloudy sky. His reflection in the glass looked as sullen as the darkening
horizon.
His bitter thoughts were interrupted by Helena buzzing to let
him know Bernard was there to see him.
“Hello, Bernard. What brings you here?” Eteo asked as the
shaggy-haired man strode into the office
“Your associate,” Bernard barked without any preamble. “I see a
dead market, and I wonder what kind of hole I’ve gotten myself into
with your help.”
“What do you mean? You made a deal with him and he looked
after you. Why are you complaining to me?”
“I placed those shares because he gave me his word that he’s got
the well. I only hope he hasn’t double-crossed me. If he lied to me,
he can kiss his market goodbye for a long time.”
“I can’t say one way or the other, Bernard. He told me the hole is…

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Jazz with Ella

excerpt

But David, there’s another thing and it’s a real mystery.” She described the telegram that had been sent from Kazan. “That was a dreadful day trying to avoid Chopyk’s sheep herding efforts, trying to see the Gorky Museum and not think about Paul, all at the same time. Did you…?” But David was shaking his head.
Jennifer felt a wave of fear again. “You were one of the few who broke away from the group so I thought it must have been you trying to surprise me. Please tell me it’s not someone else trying to pull a fast one. ”
“I didn’t send any telegram. If you think about it, it would have to be someone who knew Volodya’s address—and knew the code words.”
“No, it didn’t have the code words in it. He thought I’d forgotten them and came anyway.”
“Natasha? She would have quick access to telegrams…she knew his address from the telegram he sent you…”
“Natasha—it has to be her.” Jennifer was stunned. “But why? I don’t get it. You know I suspected her back when the other telegram came in. She’s from Leningrad, you know, and they might have known one another while he worked for Intourist.”
“I’ve thought there’s more to her than what we’re seeing. That’s gotta be it, but you won’t get a chance to ask her because we’re trying to avoid her like the plague right now.” David began to sort through the closet for the jacket and shoes. “Do you know if she caught up to us here at the hotel?”
“Oh, for sure, but I don’t think she knows what rooms we’re in. If you hadn’t told me your room number, I’m sure I couldn’t have got it from the desk clerk. They seemed terminally uninterested.”
“Listen, why don’t you ask Volodya if he knows Natasha? Let’s sleep on this matter,” he yawned politely, “and get you-know-who fixed up with clothes in the morning.”
But when she returned to her room, Volodya had fallen into a deep sleep sprawled across the utilitarian single bed. His pack was open, contents spilled onto the floor, with his clothes hanging neatly on the racks. Coaching would have to wait.

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Arrows

excerpt

…didn’t address me. We ate in silence, and I contented myself with
what he offered me. I knew it was pointless to discuss Tamanoa, to
protest.
“Do you know why I have decided you will not die like your
servant?” he finally asked, breaking the silence, scowling at the fish
he was eating.
“I think God must have told you to let me live.”
He snorted.
“I am not to tell you why. It is for a reason for someone else to say.
But I know it took courage for you to come to us. And now I see the
way you have mourned your servant. Pariamanaco has told me. I
had never believed it possible that a white man could cry over an
Indian, as you call us, half-breed or not.”
“Tamanoa was my friend,” I said, feeling sadness and anger
welling within me. I dropped the bite of plantain I had pinched
between myfingers onto the plantain leaf. “Why did you kill him?”
“Half-breeds, they are traitors. They are not white, not one of us.
They learn our ways and betray us.”
“Tamanoa was good,” I said a bit more sharply than I had
intended.
He gave me a derogatory grimace.
“Why did you save her?” he asked, referring to his wife.
“I didn’t, God did.”
He glared at me briefly, but then turned his attention back to the
fish and cassava.
“I want what is good for you,” I continued. “I want you and your
people to see the Creator when you die.”
He gave me a fearsome scowl.
“I’ll see Mareoka. I am shaman, don’t need you for that.”
“Only born-again people can see him,” I paraphrased, for
understandably they did not have a word for baptism. “That is the
message I bring.”
“Born again? How can you be born again? That is crazy.”
“You are born again when I pour water over your head in the
name of the Father, the Son and the . . .”—suddenly it struck me …

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

The Sleigh-Drawing Horses

Deer Park at the Whirl Hill
Our young self
is given back now
by the fallow-deers at Whirl Hill,
though they are not
the red-deer princes
of the Hungarian forests,
their crown is not arboreous,
they are just mild, spotted-backed
members of the huge deer-family.
But even so,
in all of their flutters
the Psalm of Psalms
is buzzing, the number 42,
and our „ancient”,
now 45 years old thirst.
Though we are not
a pair of young dears any more,
we are humming together
the very song of our
thirsty beginnings.

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Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume VI

Not Another
No more, not that disputed shape, a big
body undivided on the metal bed with
its other side turned to the wall. I, he said,
on a persistent exercise of silence, on a
persistent exercise of the one-digit numbers
and the counting, as calm as possible, yet
hearable, three, six, nine, with the simple
shape of the lips like when you give the most
distanced kiss to the hand of the dead man.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763785