Excerpt

One can see it on their faces and in the way they behave; look at
them; I don’t see happy children who play during the recess, au
contraire, I see frightened children, you can see fear in their eyes.”
Mary nodded her head without saying any words. Then
her glance fell on Sister Gladys who was walking towards them;
Mary upon seeing the austere glance of Sister Gladys, tried, quite
unsuccessfully indeed, to distance herself from Anton. However
before Sister Gladys was close enough to listen to their voices,
Mary said to Anton, “We’ll talk again, ok?” to which Anton said,
“yes, most certainly.”
“Well, well, how’s the conversation going?” Sister Gladys
asked them in a scornful way.
Mary kept silent.
“It’s going very well Sister Gladys and how’s your morning?”
Anton asked.
“It’s going well, thank you Mr. Jonas. Anything I should
know?” She insisted.
“No, nothing at all, Sister” Anton replied.
At that moment Father Thomas neared them too and
seeing them all together he fancied it was funny, because he said
scornfully, “Here we have a quorum, I see, should I call the meeting
to order?”
Soon as Father Thomas’ last words were said, Mary said
she had work to do and walked away. Sister Gladys looked at
Anton whose eyes followed Mary’s behind until she went through
the main entrance of the school.
“Mr. Jonas, tell me, how you find your work here at the
Residential School?”
“I’m very pleased with my work, Sister Gladys,” he replied,
“I hope my work is satisfactory to you and all others.”

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

I

The angel,
we had waited for him for three years, concentrated
closely examining
the pines, the seashore, the stars.
Joining the blade of the plough or the ships keel
we searched to discover once more the first sperm,
so that the ancient drama might recommence.
We went back to our homes broken hearted
with incapable limbs, with mouths ravaged
by the taste of rust and salinity.
When we woke, we traveled to the north, strangers
driven into the mist by the perfect wings
of swans that wounded us.
During winter nights the strong eastern wind
maddened us
in the summers we got lost in the agony of day
that couldn’t die.
We brought back
these petroglyphs of a humble art.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

Fourth Canto
I stitch a leather latch on my door
keeping its serenity from copious
staggering fools laughing
as the ancient lascivious torch is lit
in the bowels of earth and
a battle of Giants reverberates
from one corner to another
their God with stamina
of youth fights old cunning Death
over the meaning of a life or
stigma the result being
leaves of grass stiffen against
the north wind and unfold their
satisfaction in sunshine’s arms
yet black velvet of
a hungry phallus climbs from
his subterranean realm to add
a laughing giggle to the lips of
day and turn ever-prosperous
fears to maverick months without
songs eluding to the graveness of this
absurdity and soil negates its
passive resolve to non-involvement
with opera music and spirited
fervor of lovemaking shredding even
the stiffest veil of darkness when
lips of the old woman with the
ironed breast lisps the strange
question and limp penis of
the old man ogling the moon
answers: I can do better

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763092