Month: September 2025

Swamped

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excerpt

He dialed Rebecca’s number first. Her pleasant voice delighted
him when she answered. It was a voice Eteo likened to a mixture of
honey and birdsong, both of which he loved.
“Would you be able to drop by for a few minutes, Eteo?” she
asked. “The annual report for Redama Resources is ready. Come and
have a look at it, and let’s make sure we haven’t forgotten anything.”
Rebecca always consulted him before she filed reports on
Redama with the regulators and other authorities. Eteo had brought
this file to her and she regarded him as the guiding force behind the
company, whose directors, two engineers with little financial background
between them, didn’t know much about these filings. Eteo
had seen many over the years and knew how to peruse them quickly.
“I could come anytime, Rebecca. How is your own schedule?”
“I’m free for the next hour. Could you come over now?”
As usual Eteo had hardly anything to do by this point in his day.
He would have left in half an hour anyway, so he confirmed that he
would walk over soon. It was only two blocks down to the 1177 West
Hastings tower and a quick elevator ride up to the 21st floor where
the Horton and Musgrave offices were located.
Ten minutes later, after telling Helena where he was going and
that he would not be back that day, he was sitting at Horton and Musgrave’s
reception. He only had to wait a minute before Rebecca appeared
and extended her hand, which Eteo squeezed warmly and
held perhaps a moment longer than would have been customary between
business colleagues. Rebecca told the receptionist to hold her
calls and took Eteo to her office. He sat down opposite her and she
handed over the file. It took Eteo only a couple of minutes to be satisfied
that everything that needed to be said was there. When he
handed the papers back he noticed that Rebecca’s hand felt hot and
sweaty, and when he got up to leave, she gave him her hand again.
He pulled her closer and found no resistance at all. Instead Rebecca
almost fell into his arms and returned his deep kiss with equal passion.
Her breathing became fast and excited and Eteo felt his groin’s
hot desire for the body of this attractive young lawyer, who was exploring
his mouth with her tongue and obviously eager for more and
more of him. His hands ran down her delicate body to her buttocks,

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

Wheat Ears

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Image
Like an ancient
repeatedly hymned sin
your body that I crave
to re-explore
gleams in my mind
like that first time
under the shade of the olive tree
jealous, sophisticated,
eternal wisdom staring
and softly whispering
yes, yes

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

Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

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Fellow Traveller in Melancholy
As she realized how much my tragic love for her overtook my heart, she invited me, among the ruins of the London Tower, for a cup of tea from the same hands, named by the killers of her lovers, depending on the season, sometimes “shovels”, other times “shiners”. She accompanied her offer with the only word she had kept inside her for years like something precious, she said, more than her life, like a secret gift of her breasts in the tempest of my lust. I raised my eyes and looked, as an unexpected shiver shook my body: she was naked before the year’s fountain, the fans of a nighty fire sprouted out of her belly and the wall was splattered with blood. I felt that the famous, “better tomorrow” had arrived, was a present reality. It was obvious that everything from the past was already erased, the nightmare of the tropics and the harbour had already vanished. I was a gigantic red eagle that saw, from a young age, the closing eyes of the opposite sun. She was the big, dark forest spread among the chandeliers, the chest and the big hallway mirror used for official palace events. Her thought was crown, her glance renaissance, her glance a beak. Her name was Rodamne. She had lived in faraway lands from where she had come to meet me. I told her I freaked out, thinking we hadn’t met earlier. How could she have, via the measure of the beautiful woman she was, replaced her eyes with two green Egyptian scarabs and she didn’t see me when I passed her? She had probably cut her long hair short so that the words that escaped from my mouth were one cathedral church built, for the only purpose of executing at the site and a specific moment, the unknown archbishop, and seller of small items, from an irregular Mexican squad. She didn’t talk, she didn’t stir, she only took in her embrace the flowers that decorated the room and scattered them in the fresh ravines, in orchards with the delayed hunter, at the foothills of the Memories Mountains. The candles burned joyously on the graceful bronze candelabras and the song she sang teary-eyed had the same meaning with the phrase “time for Shaba” in the Hebrew neighbourhoods of Thessaly cities.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Arrows

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excerpt

“Merciful heaven! I told her we could pray but not that we should
go anywhere. That is absurd.”
“It seemed to me that she enjoyed getting him all worked up.”
“And he believed her?”
“You would have to ask him, padrecito. After that, he was all over
her, but she was letting him have it. She pushed him off and left. He
stayed there puffing like a mad bull.”
“And what happened then?”
“He consoled himself with an Indian girl, what else?”
“You mean he forced himself upon an Indian girl?”
“I do not think those breasts I saw belonged to a man, no.”
“And you watched?”
He shrugged.
“Why not?”
Benjamin put his shoes back on and rolled onto all fours to stand
up. I was agitated. I didn’t know what to say or do. So I reverted to
my priestly ways.
“I expect your confession, you hear?”
“Ha, padrecito. You would do better to ask that of some others. The
men are talking. Some of them do not like Losada’s peaceful
manners. There is trouble brewing. They think we should teach the
Indians to fear us first and then talk about friendship. They say
Losada is too old for this, that he should never have been chosen for
the expedition to start with.”
“But we have come farther than the three previous expeditions.”
“I know. It would be like criticizing Bartolomé after he got us
through the storm. I am just telling you what is going on. Do you
think we should inform the captain about this?”
“How serious is it? Was it just a casual conversation, or was it
more like a conspiracy? Who was talking?”
“Infante, Giral y Coscorrillo.”
“So, the only man of any importance was Infante?”
“This time, yes.”
I was disturbed by both these revelations from Benjamin, and I
didn’t know what I must do about either.

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

Medusa

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Darkness in Brightness
So much light at high noon
Girls on towels
sunbathe
heads down
eyes shut
merciless glare
And you sit
by the rocks
so much darkness
in the thoughts
that haunt you
They always laugh at you
They always ignore you
If you had a gun
You would shoot them

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

Still Waters

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excerpt

In the nursery, Tyne watched as Miss Pomeroy, the supervising
nurse, cleansed the baby’s tender skin with cotton soaked in mineral
oil. Then she combed the dark mass of hair into a cock’s comb on
top of the rounded head. There was little moulding of the skull because
Jeannette had had a fairly rapid labour, especially during the
last stages. Tyne had received permission to come into the nursery
while the baby was being admitted, but she was surprised when the
supervisor turned to her and told her she may diaper and dress her
little namesake.
“And then,” said Miss Pomeroy, “Daddy’s waiting at the window.
Would you like to show him his daughter?”
Tyne carried her charge to the viewing window and smiled at a
beaming Guy. His eyes were fixed firmly on his daughter, the look
on his face a mixture of amazement and pride. Finally, he looked up
and, realizing for the first time who held his child, his eyes widened
and he grinned broadly. Then he waggled his fingers at the sleeping
baby, and reluctantly turned away.
Tyne carried the infant to her waiting bassinette and laid her in it
carefully. She was pulling the cover up when a voice behind her said,
“Don’t cover it yet. I’d like to examine it before I go.”
Tyne swung around, and came face to face with Bryce Baldwin.
She felt the blood drain from her head, then return in a rush. Her
pulse raced. He gave her an appraising look, then turned his attention
to the baby. As he unwrapped the child, he spoke to Tyne without
looking at her.
“So, Miss Milligan, I understand you are now a full-fledged nurse.
Was this your last day?”
Tyne took a deep breath. “Yes, it was. Too bad Carol Ann Shaughnessy
couldn’t have had the same privilege. This should have been
her last day as well.”
Tyne saw him tense. After a moment he said, “Where is Miss
Shaughnessy? I haven’t seen her for a while.”
“Oh? You haven’t heard then?” Tyne used her sweetest tone.
Dr. Baldwin turned to look at her. His face had paled. “Heard what?”
Tyne smiled, in no hurry to answer. Doesn’t he know she aborted?
Does he still think she’s having the baby? Does he think she had to leave

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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excerpt

“Sure. I’ll be happy to try that, but you know that while I’m doing that
I won’t be painting.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Fraser said.
“I’m not worried. I just don’t want you to get in a huff about not having
enough paintings.”
“I said don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m happy to do it for you in return for what
you’re doing for me. And I don’t want any money for it.”
“You don’t want any money! Well, I never – a man who doesn’t want
money. So what do you want?”
“I just don’t want you to get upset when my painting production falls
off because I’m doing other things for you.”
“Of course, I’ll be upset at your lack of paintings. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“But that’s not reasonable!”
“It’s quite reasonable in light of how you present yourself – as the one
apart – the one to whom the rules don’t apply – the one who walked in
here without an appointment. There isn’t a painter in the country that
would dare do that. And, your shenanigans in the Peace River Country
– and your wanderings in the Arctic – as if you owned the bloody place.
You put yourself forward, with a quiet aloofness, as the man who can do
everything and anything, so I’m sure it won’t be any kind of a trick for
you to be in two places at the same time, doing two different things at the
same time.”
“Well,” Ken said. “That’s not how I see myself.”
“Fine. But I’m only telling you how you portray yourself.”
“If I was who you say I am, I’d be able to get my Arctic paintings and
stories out to the public, and I can’t.”
“Your Arctic paintings are the only tentative part of you. You haven’t
come to terms with that subject. You’re unsure and it shows. Everything
else you paint is clear, simple, strong and sure-footed. But don’t be concerned.
In good time, all of this will look after itself. With your confidence
and your bloody single-mindedness, you’ll work your way through it. But
right now, you’re not there and I will neither show them nor recommend
them. In that area you have a long way to go.”
That evening, he related the conversation to Helen.
She laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. You have an ego as big as
the world. You’re full of yourself. The long and short of it is that you’re
arrogant. Alex is right. You wander into a place, you give it the once-over
and all of a sudden, you’re going to fix everything, you’re in control, and
you’ll take care of it. That’s what it looks like from the outside.”
“It does?”
“Yes, it does. And what do you have in mind anyway? Where are you
heading with all this?”

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

The Circle

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excerpt

incinerated bodies, and pain. Then she remembers the body of a man next to
hers and she is being violated. Her mind, suddenly feels as if it is exploding when
she realizes what had really happened.
She turns to Matthew and says, “So, you have come to enjoy necrophilia
these days, Matthew Roberts. You must be really desperate. You obviously
couldn’t wait until morning.”
He turns looking at her with a smile.
“You looked so attractive, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.”
Suddenly the room becomes dark and an explosive anger overtakes her
whole body; her eyes darken and her heart accelerates in a frenetic rhythm as if to
break through her chest and run away, burning everything in its path.
“Of course, you couldn’t resist using your weekend whore. That’s what you
always do, five minutes for your pleasure; five minutes is always enough for you
to find your manhood at its peak. The thought of how you view lovemaking
makes me puke,” she yells.
He’s flabbergasted by her outburst; he has never seen his Emily in this state of
mind. This is not his Emily, the quiet calm person he has known all those years.
She screams from the depths of her larynx and her voice carries such disgust,
such pain, such nausea that his eyes and mouth open wide and he doesn’t know
what to do or say. Suddenly, he interrupts her.
“What is it, sweetheart? Why all this commotion?”
“Don’t sweetheart me! Don’t you ever dare sweetheart me again, Matthew
Roberts. I’ve had enough of that. I have had enough of that, do you hear me? I’m
not your sweetheart or your weekend whore, anymore!”
He ducks down as if expecting her to throw something. He has never seen her
this way. He becomes apologetic.
“What would you like me to do, Emily?”
But her anger is so fierce and unappeased that she can no longer think logically.
She yells out her frustration and pain, “When you come to the point of violating me
when I’m asleep, I don’t know what you want me to say, Matthew. You are
despicable! You make me sick! Yes, my God, how you make me sick! I don’t even
want to look at you anymore.Why the hell do I put up with your crap all the time?
For the stupid salary you earn; for the stupid agency you work for; for the stupid life
you and I lead? It makes me sick to think of all that. Yes, Matthew Roberts, it makes
me sick! You make me sick. I want you out of here. Are you listening to me? I want
you out of here, out of my life! I’m not your weekend whore, anymore. Go, go to
your stupid hotel where you spend every day of the week. You may as well spend
your weekends there. Why did you come here? For your five-minute fuck?” The
tears course down her cheeks, and she wonders why she has not revolted before?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Unfulfilled

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The Driver’s Tale
Once upon a rainy day
A lady got into the cab
Smoothened her dress, gave an address
„Take me right there” – so she said
As I drove, the clouds were clearing
With courage, I dared to ask:
„What is such a lovely lady
Doing in this area?”
She looked nervous, but she answered
„I will see the love of my life”
Turns out that her man didn’t see her
For thousands of the days and nights
By the time we reached the destination
There were only a few clouds left
To my surprise – though not frustration
The decent lady suddenly said
„It’s possible that I’ll be back soon,
Would you mind stickin’ around?”
„Not at all, not this afternoon
Just make sure you’re safe and sound”
She left the car, her hands were shaking
And I guess, so were her legs
To watch her was a bit heartbreaking
In that long and elegant dress
She rang the doorbell – only once
And someone has opened the door
My view was not very nuanced
I only saw that he was tall
There was a heavy millisecond
That was when the air has melt
He hugged her, and said „please, do come in”
Love was around, or so it felt
I drove off into the sunset
No more clouds, there was no rain
I could have parked there ’til forever
It would all have been „in vain”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763645

Poodie James

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excerpt

“Sam, you’re smart enough. You wouldn’t work if your life
depended on it. You been a proper stiff all your miserable life?”
“Only since I was old enough to leave home fifty years ago.
‘Bout you?”
“Oh,” Engine Fred said as he uncapped one of the pints, “I had a
job, a wife, kids, a house, dogs, even a car. They had me, really. I
left all that behind. I had to get out from under.”
“Think you’ll ever go back to it?’
“If I did, it wouldn’t be there.”
Poodie watched, intent on the conversation, marveling that
these men rode freight trains, lived in the open, begged for food,
did odd jobs, wanted no home, and he had found a home. Engine
Fred offered him whiskey out of his tin cup.
“Just a sip, see how you like it.”
Engine Fred and Old Sam laughed at Poodie’s grimace and the
tears in his eyes.
“You’ll get used to it,” Old Sam said, peering at Poodie’s face.
Poodie shook his head and made low sounds. He got out his pad
and pencil, wrote, tore off the sheet and handed it to the old man.
Old Sam studied it, shrugged and passed the note to Engine Fred.
“What’s it say, Engine?”
“It says, ‘No more of that.’ See, Sam, I told you he was smart.”
Two nights later, Poodie made his way up to the jungle carrying a
bag of apples. As he came around the big boulder at the path’s final
turn, he saw Old Sam cowering near the bonfire, trying to shield
his head from the blows of a big man in black clothing wielding a
club, a cloth tied over his nose and mouth, his hat pulled low. Sam
twisted, arched his back, tried to tuck his chin into his chest. The
man kicked at Sam’s groin and aimed the club at his ribs, chest and
face. Poodie dropped the apples and stood frozen. The man suspended
his club in mid-strike and looked at Poodie. All that
Poodie could see of his face was eyes reflecting the firelight. The
attacker started toward him, then turned and ran toward the tracks.
Poodie rushed to Sam. The old man’s neck was bloody.

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