Still Waters

Excerpt

Carol Ann tossed her head. “I can’t think of anything better.”
Tyne grinned and glanced at her watch. “Hey look, gang, it’s getting
on to dinner time. I’d like to go have a peek at the roster before
we eat. So hurry up and change, then we can get to the cafeteria before
the rush. I’m starved.”
A few minutes later, as they hurried along the corridor, Tyne said,
“Did either of you see the menu board? What’s for dinner?”
“It’s Sunday. Need you ask?”
“Oh no, not beef stroganoff on my first day back?”
Moe poked her in the ribs. “No, sorry to disappoint you, kiddo.
Not beef stroganoff. That’s just their fancy name for it. It’s plain old
beef stew.”
Tyne groaned. The house mother, having overheard their comments,
looked up and scowled as they passed her desk.
As they spilled out the door onto the street, Tyne murmured under
her breath, “Oh, Mom, I sure miss you now.” 
Tyne stood at the nursing station on St. Francis and listened intently
as Sister Mary Louise assigned the graduates and student nurses
their duties for the day. Six of them gathered around the desk, two of
them third-year students. Joan Farr from the September class looked
nervous. She had just attained her third-year status, and probably
did not feel quite ready for the private patients on St. Francis, many
of whom were professional people, two of them doctors.
Tyne remembered Moe’s words as the three roomies ate breakfast
in the dining hall that morning. “It doesn’t matter how much money
they have, Tyne. Just remember that in bed with nothing on but a
skimpy nightshirt, they’re just the same as you and me.”
Tyne repeated the words to herself as she made her way down the
corridor with a tray of medications.

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

Vespers

Wings
Obstinate swallow wings spread
open merciless windbreakers
pronouncing elegance against
dictum’s profanity, legs
tucked away unlike a statue’s
yearning in awe for
his own feathery propulsion
must stand durable instead
on firmness, while
blue heaven consoles
loneliness with puffy clouds
whiting the distant shore
where everything someday
will adhere to excellence

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763033

Βασίλης Μόσχος, Δύο ποιήματα

The Circle

Excerpt

She’s a pretty lady. Talal thinks that if he didn’t have
difficulty following her Australian accent he could easily fall in love with her. He
smiles at that thought and she detects what he is thinking.
“What are you smiling about? Is it one of those delusions of yours, again?”
Helena jokes with him.
He doesn’t mind her at all because he knows she means no harm. She’s
always playful and full of fun; as a matter of fact, he enjoys her more than other
girls he has met, because this Australian girl with the beautiful contours is
someone whom Talal has gotten to know very well by exploring and touching
and getting excited and satisfying. But suddenly his mind travels to a woman
older than himself with whom he had such a great morning yesterday. Helena
recognizes something from his glowing face and his faint smile, a smile that a
woman can easily see is the smile of a man thinking of another woman. She says,
“Thinking of her again, aren’t we?”
“Thinking of who? What do you mean?” He suddenly gets defensive.
They are interrupted by Ahmed as he comes back to the table. She turns to
Talal.
“I’ll leave you boys on your own. Don’t forget to pick me up about three on
Saturday.”
“No problem, beautiful. I’ll be there.”

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

He Rode Tall

Excerpt

Joel wasn’t sure what it was, but somehow he had connected
with the peace and tranquility of the land. He was wondering
if there wasn’t some way he could make a go of the Circle
H. Joel knew that he had lost his soul a lot of years ago, but now,
maybe just maybe, he had found his soul in the hills.
“So who is this Smith character?” inquired Joel.
“Big rancher. Moved in about ten years ago and hasn’t stopped
buying since. Must control almost the entire county. Between
what he has already put his hands on and what he has tied up in
first right of refusals he pretty well owns Sweetwater Country.
They say he runs over 5,000 head.”
Even Joel knew that 5,000 head was a lot of anything let alone
cows. Anyone who has enough land to feed that many cattle
would be just about as close to a king as you could get in this dry
country.
By now, Harry had run out of chores to do and things to tinker
with so he slowly turned to face Joel. It was then that Joel clearly
saw the withered, weather-stained face of the man he was speaking
with. Joel couldn’t help but think that Harry’s head was too
big for the size of his body. His tiny frame carried maybe 140
pounds, none of it fat. With a thirty-inch waist, this ranch hand
of fifty or sixty, or was it seventy, years appeared to be in excellent
condition. His face featured a big nose, ears the size of tea saucers,
and an abundance of thick black hair. And his hands. His
hands were those of a worker and his big head seemed out of proportion
to the size of his lithe body.
“Lives over there,” offered Harry.
“Over where?” asked Joel, almost forgetting who it was that
they were talking about.
“The Buck Smith Ranch Corporation Headquarters are just
over those hills. Maybe a mile across.”
“Then we are neighbours.”
“Might say that. A mile across the hills but must be ten miles
around on the roads. Don’t see much of them over here. Just
their cows all over the hills.”

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

Constantine Cavafy – Poems

ARISTOVOULOS

The palace mourns, the king mourns

King Herod, inconsolable, laments,

the entire city grieves for Aristovoulos

who was drowned so unjustly, by accident,

while playing in the water with his friends.

And when they learn of it in other places,

when the news spreads as far as Syria,

many among the Greeks will be saddened;

many poets and sculptors will mourn,

for Aristovoulos was known to them,

and no vision of an ephebe in all our history

could compare to the beauty of this youth;

what statue of a God has Antioch ever deserved

as great as this young lad of Israel?

The First Princess weeps and wails,

his mother, the most eminent Jewish lady.

Alexandra weeps and laments for the calamity.

But when she finds herself alone her sorrow changes.

She groans; she rails; she curses; she reviles.

How they duped her! How they deceived her!

How their purpose was finally achieved!

They devastated the house of the Asamoneans.

How did that criminal king achieve his goal;

the deceitful, the corrupt, the dishonest.

How did he do it. With what infernal plot

so devious even Miriam didn’t suspect a thing.

If Miriam had sensed it, if she suspected it,

she would have found a way to save her brother;

she is a queen after all, she could have done something.

How they will celebrate now and secretly gloat,

those wicked sluts, Kypros and Salome;

those vulgar women Kypros and Salome.—

And she is powerless,

has to pretend that she believes their lies;

unable to go before the people

to go out and shout to the Hebrews,

to tell, to tell how the murder took place.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1723961833

Jazz with Ella

Excerpt

The day’s itinerary included lessons, a visit to the Kremlin and Lenin’s tomb, followed by a trip to the Lenin Museum. Evening was reserved for the ballet.
“I’m thrilled about the Kremlin,” whispered Paul, “but frankly I don’t want to see the Lenin Museum.”
“It’s early days yet,” Jennifer whispered back. “Don’t start an international incident.” She speared a wedge of sausage that sat in a grease slick beside a rubbery poached egg. “The bus is leaving at 9. Let’s eat this delightful repast and get going.”

Yawning and groaning, the group boarded the bus under Natasha’s watchful eye, then waited while Paul was dispatched to round up the twins who had already found the hotel’s souvenir shop. “Just ask if they’ve seen two copies of Liza Minnelli wandering about,” Hank called after him. The twins certainly resembled the movie star although with an extra twenty pounds of weight per twin.
They waited again while Professor Chopyk delivered a brief but pompous speech of welcome. Aaargh! Why does he do things like that? Jennifer thought. It’s so irritating.
The bus took them across Red Square and parked two minutes later at one of the Kremlin gates.
“That was hardly worth the ride,” grumbled Marty.
“Arriving by bus marks us as foreign visitors,” said David, who was laden with camera equipment, “and we get privileged treatment on the tours.” It was true. Natasha marched them behind the Kremlin walls, past the many line-ups, ignoring the passive stares of the crowds, and ushered them into each historic location. They visited the quiet, simple Church of the Assumption, examined the Tsar’s Bell that had never been rung and the Tsar’s Cannon that had never been fired, and they gazed across a closely guarded, cobblestoned courtyard at the imposing edifice of the Supreme Soviet.
The Kremlin’s armoury museum was not a house of weapons as Jennifer had expected. Instead, it was a dazzling display of fine crafts, jewellery, ornate costumes, royal regalia and richly decorated carriages.

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

Arrows

Excerpt

I gripped the lifelines, my habit soaked and
pasted to my body. He shook his head and curled his mouth as he
placed his bare feet on the steps.
Bartolomé glared when I came up to the quarterdeck. He and the
helmsman were fighting with the long tiller to steer the Isabella who
was surfing a wave downwind with increasing speed. He was too
busy to pay me attention.
I could see he was thinking hard, for he had seen men break their
bones when propelled by the long tiller as the waves jerked the
rudder.
The pilot concentrated on the movements of the needle in the
compass set in a wooden box fixed onto the binnacle. A sailor tried
to record the time and course while another minded the sandglass.
Every man there had a duty to perform; all others were tucked away
in the relative safety of the ship’s innards. Bartolomé chewed his
inner cheek, as he always did when considering his options.
The visibility was nil, no other ships were in sight. Every vessel
was on its own now, each full of men fighting for their lives and
praying, the galleons surely better off than the Isabella. They didn’t
have the wretched high castles fore and aft, taking all the wind and
making the vessel ungovernable.
Bartolomé growled, covering his eyes with one hand and
lowering his head without releasing his grip on the tiller. I saw his
lips move silently amid the roar of wind and sea. He could attune his
senses to the mood of the wind, feeling it on his nape, sniffing it out
of the air, hearing it on the sails and rigging.
Bartolomé knew I was adamant about staying on deck; nothing
short of an angel or God’s thunderous voice would send me down.
He aimed a sullen glare in my direction and yelled to the sailor
minding the sandglass to pass me a coil of line. I caught it in the air
and fumbled, keeping an eye out for waves until I found the end of
it. Bartolomé motioned me to bring it around my waist. I managed a
knot above my Franciscan cord and tied myself to the rail as the
others were to the binnacle, but he sighed, nodded to the pilot, let go
of the tiller and came to tie the knot to his liking.

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

Neo-Hellene Poets, an Anthology of Modern Greek Poetry

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 ship’s keel

once again, we searched to discover 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 travelled 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/1926763513

Still Waters

excerpt

Chapter Three
The ambience of the nurses’ residence at the Holy Cross Hospital
in Calgary did not fill Tyne with enthusiasm on the day of her return.
The air that met her as she opened the front door felt hot and stuffy,
and more depressing than the atmosphere of the bus on the three
hour ride from Emblem. She responded to the house mother’s greeting,
signed the ‘In’ register, then carried her bags down the corridor
to her first-floor room.
The tins of cookies and fruit cake, which her mother had packed
that morning, weighed her down more than her suitcase of clothes
and personal items that she carried in her other hand. But the enjoyment
the goodies would afford was worth the effort, not only to her
but to her roommates as well. They would provide a welcome supplement
to the hospital food which was seldom appetizing.
Tyne opened the door to the room she shared with two of her
classmates. The smell of paint, although more than three months
old, assailed her nostrils as it always did when she had been away for
any length of time. But it was a clean, homey smell and Tyne recalled
with amusement their efforts to decorate the unpainted walls, and to
hang curtains at the bare windows. After two years in the stark dormitory,
Maureen had declared she could not spend another twelve
months living like a nun. Tyne and their other roomie, Carol Ann,
had readily agreed. Afterwards, they wondered why they had waited
so long.
Tyne dropped her suitcase on the bed nearest to the door, and
deposited the box of her mother’s baked goods on the desk across
the room. Only then did she catch sight of the note…

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