Month: June 2025

Tasos Livaditis – Poems, Volume II

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Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

2023 Longlist Announcement

Inglorious End

     I had to reach that point fast; my fate was at risk,

the slightest delay would perhaps cost me my life or

even something more serious. However, I couldn’t

find my path, I was lost in the labyrinth of wet,

mouldy backyards. “My God, I have to get out”,

I said, and I saw the woman. Her face had a green

reflection, as if it had grown moss; she stood motionless

before the mirror, fixing her hair. “Please tell me how

I get out of here”, but she didn’t answer and then

I noticed she was a statue; the real woman sat further up

on a rocking chair. “How could I get out of here?” I asked

again. She smiled with spite. “I too, wished that some

years ago,” she said. Then my face reappeared next

to the statue of the woman; my face started to grow

moss as time went by, while I, sitting on a chair,

also smiled spitefully at the one who came to ask

about his path.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09ZVT59YW

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

“Grab a coffee and shut the door,” the manager said. When he was sure
no one could hear, he said, “I’ll hire you.”
“Sure,” Ken said. “That’s fine, but let’s sort this out first. I’ll keep your
offer as an ace in the hole.”
Later that day a small plane landed at the airstrip, disgorging the owner
of the company and his entourage, who commandeered an office and
closed the door. Ken slammed the door open and strode into the room.
One man jumped to his feet and tried to usher Ken out. “No,” he said,
shaking the man off. “If this is about me, I’m going to have my say. You
don’t hire an engineer. You don’t have one on the job, but you expect the
job to get done. I’ve learned how to do it. I’m doing it and what’s more,
ask yourself, is there any single thing wrong in the information provided?
Show me one thing that is incorrect – just one! I know you can’t. The
other question I have, is why am I doing the job of four to five men and
getting paid for one? I’m glad I’m fired. It feels good. Have a nice time!”
Ken slammed out of the room, as boldly as he had entered, got in the
truck, and drove back to Jessica’s house. He was nearing the gate when
he spotted the camp manager in his rear view mirror. Ken stopped and
waited for him to pull alongside.
“Are you fired?” he asked.
“I haven’t a damned clue and I don’t care. I’m having a good time.”
“Let me know immediately,” he said. “I’ll get you on the payroll right
away.”
“How much?” Ken asked.
“What are you making now?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Well what do you want?”
“When I know what I want I’ll tell you. Right now I don’t want anything.”
Late that evening John came to the log house with the news that the
entire issue had been smoothed over. He had told the owner that he was
the one who had taught Ken how to use a slide rule, and that everything
had been done correctly. They had screwed up in head office, not Ken.
The camp manager had also spoken on his behalf. In fact, John said, it
was a lovefest. “Everyone’s in love with you. And the owner of the company
looks like a dummy. Of course, he’s not – he’s a smart guy but he had
no idea what was going on. He has a lot of other companies to look after.
But this is a big project with a lot of contracts. No one wants to look like
an idiot. But, everybody’s happy now!”
“Well, isn’t that wonderful!” Ken said. “I’m not happy!”
“But it’s okay – you’re supposed to come back,” John said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ken said. “I’ve been fired.”
“So what do we do?”

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

Life is a Poem

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LUCK
If it doesn’t want to
by no means
make it be scared,
embarrass it,
squeeze it between the doors.
And if it still doesn’t want to,
shoot it with the slingshot
to make it yours.
Luck loves
if it is forced,
if it is seek after.
Search for it
in the heart of the glaciers.
If it exists,
let it exist for you, too!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C7KT7ZFV

Αγγελική Κουντουράκη, Nigredo

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Αγγελική Κουντουράκη, Nigredo

Savages and Beasts

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Excerpt

Molly had seen a lot in this diner which had become the center
of the latest news like a dispatch office, a center for controlling
the disease that eats their forest timber and the viscera of men,
she had seen a lot and she had heard a lot, Molly, and her eyes
and ears were always focused and tuned to anything worthy of
retaining in this small city of the British Columbia interior where
the famous Indian Residential School was located.
Anton looked at her. Their eyes said it all. She knew, there
at that moment, she knew of the tempest that was pounding his
mind and heart, but she also knew they had to be smart and
practical if they ever discovered something about the School and
what would be their best approach to the issue on hand: their goal
was to find out detailed info about the ins and outs of the School
and why these children don’t ever behave like children who like
to run around and play and enjoy their days in school.
“Thank you, Molly,” he uttered slowly.
The old man, next to Anton, was sipping his coffee and
enjoying his smoke. He smiled as his glance caught Molly’s hand
playing with Anton’s.
“Youth, the forever youth,” he thought to himself; then
he addressed Anton, “I gather you spent your first day at the
School?”
“Yea.”
“How’s my old pal?”
“He’s good.”
“There were times, back then, when Dylan wouldn’t bother
coming home at night; does he still sleep there sometimes?”
“Yes, even today he said he didn’t feel like going home and
he stayed at the school.”
“Where does he sleep?” Simon asked.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Still Waters

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Excerpt

Sister had warned the staff this morning to be careful what they
said in the hearing of their patients, especially this couple. Yesterday,
as his wife was being admitted, Guy Aubert had overheard the nurses
at the desk.
“The patient going into 224 is a threatened abortion,” one of them
said.
“This is not an abortion,” Guy Aubert yelled, his French accent
becoming more pronounced with the level of his outrage. “We do
not do such a thing as this. We are Catholic, and the church does not
allow …”
It had taken Sister several minutes to calm the young man down,
and explain what she meant by the medical term. Tyne cautioned
herself not to refer to her patient’s condition as anything but a
threatened miscarriage. Her heart ached for the couple and the obvious
distress they felt at the possible loss of this first baby they wanted
so much.
Shortly before three o’clock, Tyne made the final rounds of her patients
to assure herself that all was in order for the oncoming evening
shift. The young boy with the ruptured appendix seemed to be doing
nicely. His anxious parents had not left his bedside. The middle-aged
man, who had been admitted two days earlier with a heart attack,
slept peacefully. There was nothing more to do at the moment for
the bowel surgery in 216. His wife sat quietly by his bedside, and
smiled at Tyne as she bid them good night.
Jeannette Aubert was alone in her room, still lying on her back,
still clutching her rosary. Tyne could see where the tears had dried
on her cheeks.
She covered her patient’s hands with her own, and said gently,
“Shall I give you a back rub, Jeannette? You’ve been lying in this position
for most of the day. We don’t want you to get a bed sore.”
Tyne knew that, unlike her elderly patients, young healthy skin did
not develop pressure sores so readily, but a back rub would afford
her the chance to talk to the young woman alone. It might also help
Jeannette relax, and take her mind off the baby for a few minutes.

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

Marginal

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Spruce
Dryads playing their rhythmic flutes
next to the towering giant reaching
the heavens: the tallest spruce,
the highest I had seen,
towering spruce stood silently
paying attention to cars
speeding by it on the highway
to people unaware of the spruce’s might
oblivious of its words, attention, silence,
contemplative mind
unaware of its mighty ambition to reach
the ineffable while passing man
cared for his appearance on this earth
oblivious of his purpose opposite
the trees are clearly defined in their bark
incised in its rings, in its time,
eons, moments, indisputable witness
of time’s passing unlike speeding cars
with people unaware of the purpose
people care about their appearance
in life day or night, they are asleep
purpose in absence, ego in overdrive.

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

Bartolomé let him go, patting him on the shoulder. Pánfilo bent over
and coughed, hand on his throat as though choked instead of rattled.
I crouched beside Antonio and tilted the flask. I wasn’t sure how
much would suffice; a few drops would have to do as more would
kill him. I concentrated on balancing against the movements of the
ship and tilted the flask just a little more until a few droplets fell into
Antonio’s limp mouth. The potion squirted between Antonio’s lips.
He coughed from the bitterness and tried to sit up.
I gasped and tried to clean the excess with a rag, but it was too
late. Antonio had swallowed it all. I uttered unconfessable
commentaries under my breath and glanced at Bartolomé. He
looked at me, and I shrugged helplessly. We took our positions in
silence. I buried my nostrils in my armpit while positioning my
hands on Antonio’s chest, bewildered by the stench.
Benjamin knelt beside me, arms straight down, squashing
Antonio’s good leg. I was sweating, we all were.
Bartolomé produced a leather bundle and carefully spread it on
the floor, revealing a number of surgical instruments. Rag strips
were neatly folded in a small pocket. In the monastery, Fray
Bernardo had taught us to cure wounds. A few times we saved the
life of one of the animals by cutting an infected limb. We had always
proceeded faster when we placed a board underneath for support. I
found one and put it under the leg with a subtle nod to my brother.
He acknowledged with the sharp knife, ready to cut.
“Lord, have mercy.” I said.
In the uncertain light given off by two candles, Bartolomé crossed
himself and began cutting with long swift movements. Antonio’s
drunkenness and my potion failed to stop him from becoming a
struggling, swearing beast, but finally he passed out when
Bartolomé began sawing the bone.
We loosened our grip. Pánfilo gawked at the wound. Better he
keep his mouth shut for, whenever he talked or breathed, the foul
odor of his remaining teeth made me want to vomit.

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

Swamped

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Excerpt

A key turned in the lock of the front door and a moment later
Alexander walked into the kitchen. He came up close to his father
and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi. Alex. How was the day?”
“It was good. I signed up for the choir.”
“The choir?” Eteo’s voice did not hide his surprise.
“Why? You don’t want me to be in the school choir?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. You can be a member of the choir if you
wish, of course. I’m just surprised since you never mentioned it before.”
“All good, Dad. What’s for dinner?”
“Penne with minced turkey and a big salad.” Eteo smiled at him.
“That’s great, Dad, your pasta is always very tasty,” Alexander
said and disappeared upstairs to his room.
Eteo continued with his cooking for a few more minutes until
his mobile phone rang again. Picking up, Eteo heard Herb’s excited
voice blurting out, with no introduction, “It’s done, they shook
hands.” He sounded almost out of breath.
“What do you mean, Herbert?”
His long-time client caught his breath and explained that the two
groups he had mentioned in the morning had agreed on acquisition
of the new asset. Tomorrow they would go to the attorneys to sign
the letter of intent and in no more than a week the formal agreement
would be in place.

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

Entropy

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Dawn
A man crosses the river
drops on sleds flow and vanish
tomorrow’s season doesn’t care about existence
it marches and dreams, it doesn’t remember
its body, the flashing ecstasy
reflection of flow
crosses the emptiness of the void
the web of nebulas
the abyss of the night hides in his hair
the timeless paths beyond the Vega of Aldebaran
omen of Odysseus part of totality
marches into the arcanum of fleshless reality
the eternal illusion of light and life
will know that the flow
is nothing but only
the self-immolation of all that passed.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPCRLJC6