Month: July 2025

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

“But where would they go, otherwise?” Millie said. “There doesn’t appear to be much choice, does there? Corky, as nice a guy as he is when he’s sober, certainly isn’t a fit parent.”
When Tyne didn’t answer, Millie pulled herself erect and stared at her. “You’re not thinking you should … that you could …? Tyne?”
Tyne looked down and began to move her coffee mug in circles on the table. “Yes, Aunt Millie, we have talked about fostering the children. Would that be so bad?”
Millie reached to cover Tyne’s hand, stopping its circular motion. Tyne looked up.
“Goodness no, child, it isn’t wrong to want to do that. In fact, it would be really kind of you and Morley to take the children in. But are you ready for that? Have you thought of the commitment it would take to raise two young ones? And you’re just starting out in your marriage.”
“I know … I know what you mean, Auntie. It would be a big decision, but we’ve grown to love Rachael and Bobby. Neither one of us can stand the thought of them being neglected like Ruby’s kids are.” And she went on to tell her aunt some of the ways the children had endeared themselves during the time they had lived on the farm.
When they got up from the table to start the dinner, they were both laughing through their tears. Tyne carried their mugs to the sink, saying as she went, “It may be a moot point, anyway. We can’t make any plans until we know Corky’s wishes. But he’s a reasonable kind of guy when he’s sober; the trick will be in catching him when he is sober, and talking to him.”
Millie put an arm around Tyne’s shoulders. “Leave it in God’s hands, dear, and seek his will. Remember, all things work together for good to those who love him.”
Tyne smiled and covered her aunt’s hand with her own. “Yes, Auntie, I know that even though it’s a hard lesson to learn sometimes.” She turned and kissed Millie’s smooth cheek. “Thanks for being here for me like always. I love you.”
As they set to work to prepare the noon meal, Tyne’s heart felt lighter than it had for days.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Medusa

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Peace of a Full Stomach
Citizen watches TV ordinarily
beer belly exposed
tight tee-shirt
jogging pants
fluffy comfort
mind mutated by fat
extreme superiority
over masses of colourful citizens
of the faraway places where beasts live
mind mutated by the notion of entitlement
revisionists accentuated
underscore the importance
of new smart bombs
that outsmart foreign defences
calculations, exact results
deleting hypotheses and estimates
The unprecedented precision
of missiles controlled by a computer
dark green glow of a screen
fingers manipulate the Enter button
boom

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

Volodya stirred from his place on the bench, one arm over her shoulders. His face betrayed an odd mixture of pride in his home and uneasiness at the conversation. “You have no idea how much suffering,” he replied. “This very spot, these buildings around us, were built by Swedish prisoners of war during Peter’s time. This was a swamp and many of them died working in it, their bodies beneath us in this earth.” He shuddered. “Then, of course, there was bloodshed during the Revolution… That boat—you can almost see it from here, the cruiser Aurora—it fired the first shots after Our Leader, Lenin, arrived in the city to rally the workers in 1917. Those years meant war and famine. There is not much recorded because the state does not want to remember those bad times.”
“The city was under siege again in the Second World War, I know,” added Jennifer, “and many died of hunger.” She felt privileged to hear the stories of its history from a real Leningrader and not from their pedantic tour guide.
“Yes, those years are well documented. The destruction was visited upon us from the Nazis, not from the revolutionary forces.” He fell quiet for a time. “I love this city,” he went on, “but it illustrates a horrible truth. It seems that anything that rises up and is good must always be built on suffering. This city has a legacy of suffering and bloodshed but it has survived, and it’s good. What was that word you used? Joyous?”
“Yes, joyous,” and the thought of the untapped beauty still to be found in this extraordinary place made her swell with emotion. She leaned over to kiss him, not for the physical act of kissing, but because she wanted to seal that thought with something meaningful. He was surprised at her gesture but soon kissed her back. When they finally fell gently away from one another, a few faint stars had appeared in the sky.
★
On the fourth day in Leningrad she noticed that, suddenly, the stores were stocked with Israeli oranges. Everywhere women shopped in pairs, each carrying one handle of a shopping bag overflowing with the fruit. At the end of a long afternoon together, Jennifer and Volodya stood

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

Ken’s people were caribou people.
When the last of the caribou had passed, they dragged the fresh carcasses
to several large piles of rocks that they lifted to reveal deep pits
lined with more rocks. They lowered the meat into the pits and replaced
the rocks. The main danger to their food reserves was marauding wolverines.
By caching their meat under rocks too heavy for the wolverines to
move, they guaranteed a food supply for the season to come.
The days changed. The shiny green bearberry that covered the tundra
turned blood red and when Ken gazed across the land he saw a river of
crimson. One morning the snow geese flew across in the hundreds of
thousands. When they settled on the land a down blanket covered the
scarlet sea.
The days grew shorter and the temperature dipped dramatically. Ken
shivered in his sleeping bag and the old woman gave him two caribou
hides – one to put under his bag and one to cover it. He developed a new
understanding of the word “cold”. Cold was not simply a word here – it
was a palpable, physical thing, which assaulted every sense – it was the
god that controlled the land.
A few days after giving him the caribou hides, the old woman presented
him with a caribou parka lined with Arctic fox. Through her son,
she explained that this was to be worn without undergarments, next to
the skin. The parka was light, soft and astonishingly warm.
They continued to travel east until they came to a lake dotted with a
number of small islands, where they had left sleigh dogs that had whelped
in early summer. The animals were wild, ferocious, and pugnacious. They
took them back to the mainland where they pegged them to the ground,
placing the lead dog at the front of the pack. Once a day someone tossed
a frozen fish to each dog, which it consumed ravenously. The dogs were
born to pull sleighs and once in the traces would run across the ice until
they dropped from exhaustion.
With the dogs in tow, they continued trekking to the place the old
woman called home. She was a Netsielik, People of the Seal. Her husband,
who had died of TB, was People of the Caribou. TB had become epidemic
among the Inuit. Several people in the group had severe coughs and often
spit up bloody phlegm.
Snow began to stream across the land, blowing from the west in a million
little rivulets. The temperature, already chillingly cold, continued to
drop. The old woman gave Ken a pair of trousers made from caribou hide
and sewed a wolverine hide along the edge of the hood of Ken’s parka.
To the amusement of the Inuit, Ken sat on the frozen tundra in his new
clothes, watching the snow dance across the land. He felt fortunate. He
was living his childhood dreams. This was the Arctic he had envisioned –
the land of Francisco’s stories.

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

Chthonian Bodies

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Scenario
Duty tendance devotion
your breath intake gills
expand contract create
fins order oclude dictate
direction depth or height
of shallow lake water
away from the fisher’s hook
yet let it be and
let you play with him
perhaps a light bite
a giggle of the tail
shiver runs through his
spine and the sun observes
movement of line
tip of the rod
vibration leela
laughter and agony for the one
that got away

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763424

Arrows

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Excerpt

In the general direction of the enemy, Indian servants placed
forked poles to hold the muzzles of the heavy harquebuses. The
horses whinnied and stamped their hoofs, rustling the foliage as
they tugged at their halters. Somewhere farther away, I could hear
sheep bleating; closer the squealing of pigs.
Losada had mounted his black horse and was now whirling in
circles and bellowing orders, sword raised high over his head. I
glimpsed an Indian woman scampering into the bush with a toddler
on her back, suspended on a thick band hanging from her head. The
Indian servants scurried about, grabbing whatever they could and
herding the animals. All the riders mounted, and the dust cloud
thickened, forcing me to hold my breath. Gregorio ran past me,
balancing a harquebus in his hand.
“Don’t just stand there, hide!” he bellowed, his voice almost
drowned out by the racket.
“Where is she?” I yelled back.
But he was gone to join the harquebusiers gathering behind the
riders. I hunched into myself, rosary tight in my right hand. I came
upon the fire, blinking to clear the smoke from my eyes, and found
the last place I’d seen her. I stumbled over a basket and nearly fell. In
the name of all saints, I didn’t even know her name!
The servants had disappeared. I was the only idiot awaiting the
arrows. At the sound of grunting, I looked down to see a pig
careering into the heart-shaped leaves of a huge philodendron. I
followed the pig.
It took a moment for my eyes to grow accustomed to the dimness
in the jungle. I could discern crouching human silhouettes. Indian
women were huddled together on the ground, some crying, others
staring vacantly while frightened children clutched at them, some
finding oblivion at their mothers’ breasts. I made hushing sounds
and touched a shoulder here, another there, gesturing toward the
trunk of a big mahogany tree and mimicking the arrows falling

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

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

Tanya
The Circle H Ranch
Willow Springs, Montana
It had been a full week since he had been to a meeting, and Joel
was thinking that he needed one. Both he and Harry had
worked hard with the horses all week. Joel’s ankle had healed
after a couple of days; not enough that he was doing jumping
jacks, but enough that he was able to saddle up and ride. By now,
both Joel and Harry had all of the horses out riding in the hills
and he could tell that the animals really loved it. Buddy the Border
Collie was also getting a great workout accompanying the
horses on the rides. With things going as good as they were, Joel
figured that he and Harry could give the horses a day off. They
turned the horses out into the big meadow of flowing green grass
and declared the day a holiday.
Watching the horses lazily graze in the lush meadow, Joel
thought that, for the horses and for himself, this was probably as
close to heaven as he could be on this planet.Unlike the surrounding
harshness of the hill country that was parched from the constant
rays of the sun and the whipping of the winds, the meadow
was protected on two sides by some of the biggest trees Joel had
ever seen in this part of the world. Oaks, he thought. Flowing
through the heart of the meadow and contributing to its lush
appearance was Paradise Creek, with its headwaters in a spring
that was back in the hills. As he stood there and watched the
dozen three-year-olds make the most of their holiday, the shrill
call of a meadowlark serenaded Joel

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

Kariotakis-Poludouri, The Tragic Love Story

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Doubt
The young man you expected
won’t come tonight.
What would you had told him? Why?
Let futility vanish
sever the unfortunate sprout.
Don’t let the endless
cunning desire
fool your heart
a secret sadness flows
over this spring evening.
Yet you don’t listen to advice
enchantment has strong hold on you
he’ll never come tonight
and tomorrow will turn
even more painful.
Absence will shine
light into his darkened eyes;
with reserved ardor
a secret grief
will kiss his awkward hands
that I shall see spread
timid in victory
sweet as if they can
caressing waves to pull me
like a pebble into the depth

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

Orange

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Lass
Sorrowful night dew
between two legs
shameless moon splashed
emphatic nakedness
of the female youth: untouched
crisp, not bitten peach
spread under the light sheet
lonely like the barn owl or
cricket fighting gleam
of the night and
on the back of the chair,
her bra longed for daybreak
when it’ll embrace her little breasts
like a mother protecting
her two little daughters

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763750

Entropy

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Workshop of Dreams
We hang between time and space
fleeting concepts
mysterious genomes of ecstasy
pathfinders of transformation we weave the chaos
of our origin
in the uteruses of life and death
nothing is saved and nothing dies
in the infinity, we build the revolution
of a prearranged dream

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