Epode
(chorus of Freemasons)
Go away curses, don’t come close,
Corazon
from cradles to the stars, from the womb to the eyes,
Corazon
where sharp rocks and volcanos and seals
Corazon
where a dark face with big lips and white teeth
Corazon
let the phallus stand let the celebration start with
human sacrifices and dance
Corazon
amid the revel of the flesh to the glory of ancestors
Corazon
so that they shall sow the new generation
Corazon
Old Items Collector
He passed every Thursday, right
after dawn, one could hear his
voice awakening most villagers,
the young refuge collector with
his wide muscly shoulders and
sweet smile who bought anything
the villagers wanted to discard
everything they’d give away or
sell to the young man with
the sweet smile, one man’s refuge
the other man’s treasure, the saying
went and the collector was paying fair
money for any item: pieces of steel,
rusted, bent, and useless or
the worn-out desk of the crazy poet,
who passed a few weeks earlier.
Who would care to keep a desk of
the fool who wrote poems no
sensible man could understand?
Excerpt
Tyne wondered if she should show them her gift, but decided
against it. She knew Aunt Millie would admire it, but her mother
might appear less than pleased. She hoped to spare Morley, and herself,
that embarrassment. Today, of all days, people should be joyful
and of one accord.
Tyne picked up her handbag, and smiled at the two older women
who stood watching them. “Bye for now. I’ll see you both later. I’ll be
home in time to help with dinner.”
Tyne hoped, but did not expect, that her mother would invite
Morley for lunch. She saw Aunt Millie glance expectantly at her sister-
in-law, but Emily did not take the bait. Tyne kicked off her slippers
in the entrance way and pulled on her fur boots. Then they let
themselves out into the crisp winter morning.
Morley’s parents were already seated when the young couple
walked into Emblem Evangelical Church. The usher, a man Tyne recognized
as an employee of one of the three grain elevators in town,
greeted them warmly and led them to the pew where the Cresswells
waited. Mr. Cresswell, a stocky man slightly shorter than his son,
stood and shook hands with Tyne. Mrs. Cresswell also stood to welcome
her. She, too, was stocky and short, and Tyne had to bend from
the shoulders to return her hug.
She turned towards Morley’s father. “I’m pleased to see you looking
well again, Mr. Cresswell.”
He nodded and smiled. “The Lord is faithful,” he said simply.
“We’re so happy you could come, Tyne,” Mrs. Creswell said quietly.
“Come, sit beside me, dear, and Morley can sit on your other side.”
The warmth of Morley’s parents, and their obvious pleasure at her
presence in their church filled Tyne with ambivalent feelings. How
different their attitude towards her than her parents’ attitude towards
Morley. Their acceptance pleased her, yet at the same time made her
heart ache for the rejection Morley must feel from her parents. She
hoped that Aunt Millie’s acceptance – and Jeremy’s as well – made up
somewhat for her parents’ lack of grace.
As soon as the service began, Tyne became caught up in the joy
of the congregation. They sang the beautiful Christmas carols with
passion and enthusiasm.
IV
Uniformity appears as the troglodyte receives
darkness soluble shivering
like a leaf blown by the wind
to every corner of the cave and
blackening his mind; two cows
drinking water, raise their eyes
to stare at the sharp blade of the butcher
and the insatiable teeth of hunger, while
the first earthly ownership, dangling
residential, first subdivision
of the troglodytes appears
as he puts aside leftover meat.
Fireflies slide in mid-air
embalming the unction of disease
a hard day’s hunt justified,
first harkening bank,
virgin new concept and
tomorrow’s multinational
a swath commences, and the fourth hymn
as lightning divides the sky
plowing a bright course when
here springs forth the menace of death
Excerpt
stands that were crowded with all kinds of people visiting and
catching-up with each other since the last show. At the canteen,
Joel ordered a large coffee and then found an empty table at the
edge of the eating area to sit at and ponder his dilemma. He sure
didn’t want to sell to that no-good Buck Smith, but maybe that’s
what it would have to come down to. Joel thought that he should
have talked to Tanya sooner about the money problems, but it was
his pride that held it tight inside him. It wasn’t fair to her the way
she found out. She had done an exceptional job training the pretty
little palomino and he knew that she had high hopes for the filly.
There had to be something he could do to fix the situation.
“Joel.” It was Tanya, and her tears had been replaced with a
fresh smile. “I want you to meet my friends Morgan, Jesse, and
Sue Ellen. We are going to head into town and catch a movie or
something. Want to come along?”
Joel was relieved to see that Tanya had recovered so quickly.
She was obviously pleased to have connected with old friends
from the rodeo circuit.
“Well, do you want to come?” Tanya repeated.
“Oh no, you kids go. I want to hang around and make sure that
the horses are all bedded down for the night. But hey, have fun.”
Tanya and her friends hurried out of the arena. Joel couldn’t
help but think what a special person Tanya has become. His feelings
were nothing romantic—now, don’t get silly. She was just a
real good friend who happened to be female and nineteen years
old. Oh yeah, she was one heck of a horsewoman.
They had only been friends for a couple months, but now,
their first meeting seemed so long ago. He still remembered
when she had asked him on her first visit to the ranch, “Are these
horses just pretty, or do they ride too?” He was sure he would
never forget that. Harry and he had been proud of the good
schooling they were giving the three-year-olds, but that afternoon
when he first saw Tanya ride one, then another, and finally a
third horse, he recognized that she was taking them beyond
where he could even dream of, into another dimension.
Excerpt
never been a connection between those people and the Inuit and yet here was
an original seminal idea being spoken by a woman in a completely different
time and space and place. All these things were like jolts hitting me. Here I
was living with an ancient people that were speaking to me directly. This was
not something being told to me by a teacher or a relative. I was getting the
original story and it affected me very profoundly.
When the old woman finished her story, silence enveloped the igloo like
a down blanket. Quietly, Ken stood and walked outside. The sky was filled
with as many stars as Ken’s mind was filled with thoughts. In one instant,
his life had changed. Knowingly or not, the old women had answered his
question about his role in this place, and in the lives of the Inuit.
She joined him, and he linked his arm through hers. Together they
stood gazing at the sky. Icy crystals of thought invaded his heart, while an
avalanche of ideas roared through his mind.
This was that crystal moment when everything that had happened before
made sense. I now had a clear purpose. I had gone to the Arctic because of
the stories that had been told to me in that cave in Portugal, but now, I felt
an urgency to gather as much information as possible – and to disseminate
it. It was clear to me how brilliantly I had been prepared. From this moment
on, I was no longer pursuing childhood dreams. I had a white-hot fire burning
inside me.
One day, the sun reappeared over the horizon and Ken felt as though
he was awakening from a dream. For a seemingly endless amount of time,
he had lived in darkness, listening to stories and legends, and the line between
waking and dreaming had blurred. And now the sun – a cause for
celebration – a reason for feasting!
Feasting also served to remind them of their great good fortune. They
had food, warmth, and clothing. Even more important, others had been
helped and they were grateful to have been able to help them. The young
man who had amputated his toes had survived, and that was even further
cause for thanksgiving.
As the days grew longer, the polar bears came out of hibernation. One
had been spotted nearby and men quickly prepared for the hunt. Once
again, grandmother prevailed upon the hunters to include Ken. When
the dogs picked up the scent they were released from their traces, and the
men followed their high-pitched howling.
When the dogs found their quarry they surrounded it, darting in close,
and then running back, staying out of reach of its lethal claws. Finally,
overheated and exhausted, the bear collapsed. The hunters fired at the
downed body until it lay still in a pool of blood, and then they began the
enormous task of skinning and butchering it. The oldest hunter stood
back. “In my day, that’s not how we hunted bears,” he said. “When we
hunted, it was one man with a spear and one bear with his claws.
Eighth Canto
Voice of unrelenting clock
and cry of the wind nothing
but an orchestra of the undefeated
as I turn to the west glimpsing
farewells of sailors long gone
sunk in waters of enmity
when the glide of the partridge
interrupts the path of the hottest
shot from the well-designed
double barrel insignia of Death
emblem of resurrection
on its polished handle what
is one to say when the industrious
world consumes divine
energy to spit out divine
instruments for slaughter? Heart of
the sparrow struggles in glory of an evening
mirage when one more cannon like
an unfortunate soldier snaps off a
blast through the soft plumage of the bird
across the great need
for wanton killing as the
last star fades seen through the kitchen
windowpane I uncork the wine bottle
fill two glasses for our meal
of sweet potatoes and roasted chicken
breast and the absurd intention
of a host changing attire to the new
devouring clown donating
extracts and using means few can
decline or afford as the blown feathers of
the limp partridge begs the same
question and high trembling poplars answer:
we can do better
Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
https://griffinpoetryprize.com/press/2023-longlist-announcement/
Answer
In any case I was the only servant in this mourning
house and I had met the other house master under
the stairway though the waking up was totally different,
I had to take care of the old sick women who, when young,
swore to die young and the trees had listened to so many
love words that during the night they walked in a strange way
in the garden; they all said that that night I placed the mask
on the table, among the foreigners, as if to live once more;
they, motionless, looked at me going down since I had no
other way out except the carpet which I folded slowly
and in such a way that I covered the worst.
And while they all demanded an answer I left them
in their delusion which was the only music.
Excerpt
He didn’t seem to have much family left except his grandmother in California and Jennifer felt as if she had been cast out of her own. They sat in the campus centre’s uncomfortable chairs, too hard for sleeping, just soft enough for flopping, smoked cigarettes—even though neither were smokers—and talked far into the night. At first she thought she wanted to sleep with him and made a few subtle overtures.
Jennifer had lost her virginity during the first year of college to a fraternity man who pressed his attentions on her in the back row of the movie theatre. From there, a succession of eager males had dated her but only a few had captured her interest. She didn’t believe in saving it for her husband, but she wanted respect from her partner. She wanted to find the right one—someone to love when lovemaking would be a passionate, full experience.
Paul was good-looking, tall, grey-eyed, with pronounced cheekbones, and as they wandered the campus together, she found herself wondering how he would look naked, whether he would be a good lover. But when she invited him back to her shared apartment for a nightcap, he told her about his girlfriend in Vancouver, a chemistry major who sounded as exciting as two planks of wood. Jennifer backed off. In his polite, contained style, he offered her nothing but a companionship that she would soon learn to treasure. At the end of the summer they kissed on the lips, promised to write to one another and he suggested that she apply for graduate work at his university where they could be colleagues. This parting tenderness made her feel warmer than the parting kiss of her many dates. Paul was special, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t the one.
The summer had scarcely faded into autumn before she met Michael. She had noticed him in the line-up at the cafeteria; he always ate at about the same time each day, moved his tray through the line efficiently, then always sat in the same spot, a table by the door. One day when the cafeteria was full, she thought what the hell and asked if the seat opposite him was taken. Politely, he gathered up his sprawling papers and books and indicated the seat. Then he returned to reading. She studied him. His most obvious feature was bushy black eyebrows. His thick full hair dropped to his shoulders in the current style. He was wearing a white cotton shirt with embroidery and she could see his well-proportioned body through the material.
Possessions
Joseph, the Vietnam veteran
pushes his supermarket cart
filled with his possessions:
dirty cloths, a can opener
pair of spare runners
smiling hole in the left sole
plastic bag full of things
he doesn’t stir anymore
Joseph searches the back lane
of the street for something
he lost long ago
vibrant sunny morning
very early in his task
in Atlanta Georgia, he searches
for something as invisible
as his dividends
on the defense contractors’
annual earnings report
Manolis Aligizakis 