Straits and Turns

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…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

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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

Poodie James

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Whispers ran through the audience. As Swan spoke, Engine
Fred saw a tall man with powerful shoulders enter the chamber
through a door in the wall behind the council table. The man stood
looking out at the audience. I’ve seen him somewhere, Fred
thought.
“However, our population does not qualify us to be considered a
first class city under the state’s definition. Therefore, section 34
does not apply.”
At the end of the table, a large councilman’s face reddened. His
jowls shook as he spoke.
“Mr. President, I move that this council go on record as recognizing
that we are a first class city in every respect, I don’t care what
some state law says. Why, there’s no greater place in the United
States to raise a family and……”
“Mr. Stout,” Spear said, “I’m sure we all agree with that sentiment,
but I would like to ask you to hold your motion for a regular
meeting of the council. Mr. Swan, you may proceed.”
Swan cleared his throat. “There is another section of the code
that may apply in this matter. RCW 9.66.010 says, ‘A public nuisance
is a crime against the order and economy of the state. Every
place (1) Wherein any fighting between people or animals or birds
shall be conducted; or, (2) Wherein any intoxicating liquors are
kept for unlawful use, sale or distribution; or,’ ” Swan paused,
cleared his throat and ran his hand down his tie and shirt front.
What an annoying little man, Fred thought. The way he reads
those numbers, you can see the parentheses.
“ ‘or, (3) Where vagrants resort; and every act unlawfully done
and every omission to perform a duty, which act or omission (1)
Shall annoy, injure or endanger the safety, health, comfort, or
repose of any considerable number of persons; or, (2) Shall offend
public decency; or, (3) Shall unlawfully interfere with, befoul,
obstruct, or tend to obstruct, or render dangerous for passage, a lake,
navigable river, bay, stream, canal or basin, or a public park, square,
street, alley, highway, or municipal transit vehicle or station; or, (4)
Shall in any way render a considerable number of persons insecure…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562868

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

The Unquiet Land

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…his eyes bulged with anger, and his lips curled back like a snarling dog’s. His right hand swung from his side and slapped Padraig so hard across the face it seemed to smash every bone. Then back the big hand swung. The knuckles smacked Padraig across the cheek and nose. The nose spurted blood. Padraig felt the hot stream on his lip and chin.
“You sneaking, cowardly lecherer!” Michael roared. “You guttersnipe priest! You bastard son of Satan! I’ll kill you.”
He burled his fist and crashed it down on Padraig’s face and head and shoulders. Then he pushed the priest away from him with a snarl. Padraig stumbled backwards and fell against the chancel steps. Michael rushed forward, roaring like a bull. With both hands he picked up the priest’s limp body and hurled it the full length of the chancel. Like an empty sack Padraig hit the floor and slid forward. His back struck an upright of the altar-rail, and his body swung round and stopped with a crack of his head against the altar.
Michael’s chest was heaving up and down, pumping his anger. He threw himself against the pulpit; it keeled over and crashed like a felled tree. In a frenzy he could no longer control he turned and ran to the opposite wall, tore down the picture of Christ walking on the water and smashed it against the front pew. Then he raced out of the church.
Michael knew that Caitlin had taken the shore path homewards. He had seen her wend her way through the graveyard and head westwards along the cliff-top. She had pulled her shawl tight around her against the coldness of the bright, clear dawn. He followed her, walking quickly, almost running. He reached the end of the line of low cliffs. The path slithered down a steep hill to meet the shore. Pausing on the lip of the hill, he saw Caitlin ahead of him, hurrying homewards like a cat. He left the path and ran straight down the grass-covered hillside. A few sheep bolted in front of him, then swung away to one side or the other. A couple of gulls rose from a rock in the grass, wheeled in a wide arc through the air and settled again. Michael was blind to them. He saw only the lonely figure in the white shawl to which he was drawing closer. He rejoined the path near a patch of brambles. Caitlin was barely a hundred yards away. Michael chased after her. The chumpf of breaking waves and the roll-rock chinner of the backwash sounded in his pounding ears. Then Caitlin’s head jerked round. She stopped and turned to face him. Fear and guilt froze in her eyes.
“Michael,” she cried, but more in a plea than a greeting.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

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

Still Waters

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“You mean with tax collectors and sinners,” Tyne had said, tonguein-
cheek.
“Well, I didn’t mean it quite like that,” Morley said, grinning, “but
how can people be saved if they don’t hear the Word? And how will
they hear the Word if no one tells them?”
Morley may not be preaching the Word as he mixed with people
but, Tyne was quite sure, his life and the way he lived it would be a
testimony in itself.
Tyne had spent a troubled week, and it was only because of Aunt
Millie’s persuasive powers that she was here tonight. Since the morning
her dad had dropped the bombshell of Morley’s involvement
with Jennifer Sears, she had been determined not to attend this
meeting. Now she knew why the schoolteacher had suggested a combined
meeting with the Building & Grounds Committee. Although,
Tyne had to admit, Aunt Millie had been receptive to Jennifer’s idea,
so she must have thought it had merit. Unless ….
Why had the schoolteacher’s suggestion appealed to Millie? Had
Jennifer played right into her hands? Without any effort on her part,
had Millie seen the perfect way of getting Tyne and Morley in the
same room together?
Tyne’s thoughts were jumbled. Why would Aunt Millie want to
throw us together again? Doesn’t she know how much it hurt me
when we broke up? And even if she’s entertaining hopes of us getting
back together, can’t she see it’s all so hopeless?
Tyne was jolted from her thoughts when she heard her name spoken.
Startled, and not a little disoriented, she looked up.
“I’m sure you all know my niece, Tyne Milligan,” Millie was saying.
“She came home to look after her father when he had a stroke.” Millie
turned her head to look fondly at Tyne. “Since she’s now a graduate
nurse, I’m sure she’ll be a great asset to our committee.”
There were murmurs of assent around the table, particularly from
the men who had been unaware of Tyne’s involvement. She tried
to avoid looking directly at Morley, but her eyes were drawn to his
face. His look was inscrutable as he said, “Welcome, Tyne. We can
certainly use all the help we can get.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume VI

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Leaving
Trees fell on the ground, wide open doors, and a black
dress under the stones. We took the roads, other
windows, and other places.
The dog turned his ear; it didn’t wag his tail. What we
learned, we called ours, nothing, nothing — only a
painted plate in the child’s room, if you took it with you,
perhaps things would have been better (I wonder whether
it would have died). Deep carefreeness for lack of
ownership, he said, and lack of hatred. And the pain feels
tiring at night, thus stooped over the aluminum pot,
the steam hides the hand that holds the ladle. You have
forgotten; they have forgotten you.
Hypnotized world quietness. Given up keys.
The hotel manager talks to Autumn in front of the stable.
The prison guard was tied to the railings. A lardy star onto
the chimney.
Broken glass on the soil. Be careful, don’t walk barefoot.
The dead men,
although silent for years, don’t forget their share.

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

Cloe and Alexandra

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At the Movie Theater
I’ll wear the new red overcoat.
You will wear your blue shirt and jeans.
One of our favored films will be shown
the ‘Lover’ or “Casablanka’
or “Hiroshima my Love”.
I shall cry as always.
You’ll kiss the volcano of my palm.
You’ll caress my hair
softly that it won’t break because of
a memory fluttering in your mind
that we’ve lived these events
in the past, back then
in Vienna, beginning of the century
in a teke in Konstantinoupoli
or even behind a garden.
Your hand won’t touch my body
it’ll simply be part of it
like the phallus
or one of the Fates
and that way sitting
next to each other
in complete darkness
among all these people
precisely in the now
we’ll swim together
inside each other.
And finally when the black whale swallows us,
look, we shall say,
that day we went to the movie.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562908

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FPRGYMQ

Medusa

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Void
Don’t call it void or meaningless,
this poem, only empty of what
you’ve deleted its meaning and
still full of twists and mental corners
robbed of its depth like
his palms nailed on the cross
didn’t let the tree limb
extend and gain wisdom
but it was spring
their boiling blood
forced their eager hands
to rob this poem
of its unwritten meaning
nothing on the branch of the birch
but the lone owl crying
give me strength and give me air:
wisdom filling the abyss

https://draft2digital.com/book/3745982#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763769

He Rode Tall

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Backing the horses out of the trailer, Tanya led them around, giving
them a chance to stretch their legs and survey their new surroundings
while Joel checked in at the office and got directions to
their stabling area. The good news was that the stalls they were
assigned were still in the state of Oklahoma. But just barely.
After stabling the horses and unloading their gear, Tanya and
Joel headed to the arena. As they arrived, they realized that they
were just in time to watch the evening’s performance. So that
night, after a long three days of hauling their two horses across
the country, they settled back to get the feel of the arena as they
ate hot dogs, drank soft drinks, and watched the cutting and
working cow horse classes.When it was all done they realized that
they were tired and needed to find their hotel in a hurry. After one
last check on their horses, which seemed to have taken to their
new surroundings quite nicely, Joel and Tanya drove over to the
hotel to claim their room for the next few days. Tanya insisted to
Joel that he could have the bedroom, and she would take the
couch. Reluctantly, Joel accepted Tanya’s firm offer. After unpacking,
they fell asleep to dreams of victory in the show ring.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562862

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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or not – it all depends on the environment. I suspect that you haven’t
thought your way through it – and I’m not trying to be rude, or difficult.
Usually, when people come in and ask for something that’s completely
outside their understanding, they, probably, aren’t asking for the right
thing. I’d like to suggest that I come down and make a presentation to
your company, on what I think you’re looking for.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. You don’t seem sure about why you want it, and you’re not sure
about the environment it will be in. I suspect that no matter what I paint
you won’t be happy. Painting what is in someone else’s mind is almost
impossible. So, would you do me the courtesy of letting me come down
and make a presentation, and see if that is what you want?”
“Certainly.”
A few weeks later, Ken walked into the formidable skyscraper in downtown
Toronto and gave the board members his analysis. They wanted a
large painting for the foyer. Fine – he could supply that, but it wouldn’t
be as large as the Reichmann painting. And, it would be the first of several
canvases. A smaller one would hang in the boardroom, and several others
would hang throughout the premises. The preliminary sketches and
drawings would be framed and hung as well. The paintings would tell a
story that would be repeated in a booklet. A six-minute film would also
tell the story, and it would play on a large screen television in the reception
area. When a client arrived for a meeting, he would sit and watch the
movie.
“Now, they have something interesting,” Ken said. “This is something
they have not anticipated seeing, and they realize that you are a lot more
than just what you do. When you meet the client, you tour them around
and show them all the works, and then you sit down and get down to
business. By now, they realize that you are interesting people. You have
things going on other than making money. When your business is concluded
you hand the client a copy of the book – signed by me and your
CEO – as something to take away and remind them of the meeting.”
Ken suggested they take a holiday during the month of August and
turn their offices over to him. When they returned the space would be
transformed – not just because the paintings would be hung. What good
were paintings if the background didn’t complement them? He proposed
changing the furniture to set off his work and painting the walls in appropriate
colours. Everything had to work – it had to be of a piece.
The cost, he said, was irrelevant – the accountants would write the
whole thing off. He thanked them, told them he had to return to his
painting, and left. During the next few days several of the board members
visited his studio. A couple of weeks later they accepted his fee of four
hundred eighty thousand dollars.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562830

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573