Rustling
He was writing a letter to the Lord
about the loveless chaos
the aged, dusty landscapes
and as he was writing the page
slowly turned silent
until he too became
a thought of the Lord
aloof and weightless
like the light breeze
that blew softly
and took him along
beyond the fences.
The Path of the Poisons in me
I’m living in a cave since
I’ve been born, why, that I
feel like a wanderer?
And I’ve never even been inside
every nook and cranny and I don’t know
what is my job, but already
everything’s slowing down like a sailboat when
for a long time skips the heartbeat of the wind.
I wish I had at least a curtain,
to pull away when the nothingness
spies on me too shamelessly from the outside.
But I have a long way to go for the poisons in me,
well, this is only a sketch, words,
formed barely but instead of erasures
the hope that the day will come
when I can write it properly.
Excerpt
The idea of moving to Canada became more and more exciting. Oh, to
live in a country that was huge, and sparsely populated, and that seemed
peaceful. You never heard stories about this sort of thing going on in Canada.
I tried to spend even more time with the Canadian ambassador and, given
his passion for fishing, it wasn’t too difficult.
Miloo was the brightest light in his sky. He didn’t know if he was in
love with her – he didn’t know what “in love” meant. He only knew that
some powerful emotion had taken residence inside him that was unlike
anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t only lust, although that too
played a large part – it was simply that, with Miloo, he found a comfort
that was like coming home. Miloo, had a fire inside her that burned as
bright as his own. When he was with Miloo, he felt as though there was
one other soul on the planet who understood him completely.
Their relationship gradually changed. Miloo told him stories of her
life. She explained that her limp – such a minor impediment – was considered
significant. In Portugal, only the men were allowed to have flaws.
The women had to be perfect.
Ken raged, his anger, as always, flared when he encountered an injustice.
They held hands when they walked and sometimes they stopped
walking so that they could stand with their arms wrapped around each
other. She protested that society would not allow them to be together and
yet she searched him out and welcomed the intimacy.
Then one night, when the tide was low and they walked along the
beach where the water was still warm from the heat of the sun, she suggested
they go for a swim. They took off their clothes and plunged into
the still, moonlit pool. Finally they came together in an embrace and Ken
was lost – they were both lost in each other.
Over the next two years the political situation in Portugal began to deteriorate
rapidly. Secret police, informers and spies were everywhere and
no matter how careful you were, someone was watching and talking.
Ken’s father was unaware that he had a mole in his own office. He had
hired a gem cutter from Antwerp, in Belgium, the world centre of diamond
cutting. His background was a bit shady, but he was an expert in his
craft and Ken Sr. had not inquired too deeply into his background. Lisbon
was the kind of centre that attracted unusual people: the brilliant, the demonic,
and the nefarious – they all gravitated to Portugal’s magic city.
Roaming
As if blind, we roamed the land for endless days and long nights
we seek a sign for our meaningful penitence. We commenced
The new Exodus under the loneliness of the lit sky, absent
ancient lights, for years we followed blind men or the half
blind, those others who thought they knew it all. The blistering
heat ravaged our limbs and pasted upon our cracked lips its
fatigued emotional touch as our leader’s staff bent with sadness
upon seeing our desperation. We opened a new page, battle
of man against animal-man, women against goddesses,
virginity sacrificed in the first night of lust, we wrote short
pages and meaningful stigmata in our history, exclamation
points at the sight of the bird’s flight, full stop at the watering
hole where our bodies shed their salt and our cracked lips
regained their elasticity.
And this was our second month of pregnancy and this litany
was our second miracle.
October
autumn offers its benches
under the rusty foliage dropping
the quivering dirt gets stuck to your
foot you may hear its rustling spinning later on when
underneath the crows’ wings
light conceals
and the bizarre sneak of the rats
among chess pieces that
look black from one end to the other
the letters on the page fall
it squeaks underneath one’s soles
from somewhere to something
lonely girl wanders
at night
October
under the darkness of cold quilts
I cover myself
Manolis Aligizakis 