Cretan Canadian Poet, Author, Translator, Publisher
Author: vequinox
BIOGRAPHY
Manolis (Emmanuel Aligizakis) is a Greek-Canadian poet and author. He was recently appointed an honorary instructor and fellow of the International Arts Academy, and awarded a Master’s for the Arts in Literature. He is recognized for his ability to convey images and thoughts in a rich and evocative way that tugs at something deep within the reader. Born in the village of Kolibari on the island of Crete in 1947, he moved with his family at a young age to Thessaloniki and then to Athens, where he received his Bachelor of Arts in Political Sciences from the Panteion University of Athens. After graduation, he served in the armed forces for two years and emigrated to Vancouver in 1973, where he worked as an iron worker, train labourer, taxi driver, and stock broker, and studied English Literature at Simon Fraser University. He has written three novels and numerous collections of poetry, which are steadily being released as published works. His articles, poems and short stories in both Greek and English have appeared in various magazines and newspapers in Canada, United States, Sweden, Hungary, Slovakia, Romania, Australia, and Greece. His poetry has been translated into Spanish, Romanian, Swedish, German, Hungarian languages and has been published in book form or in magazines in various countries. He now lives in White Rock, where he spends his time writing, gardening, traveling, and heading Libros Libertad, an unorthodox and independent publishing company which he founded in 2006 with the mission of publishing literary books. His translation book “George Seferis-Collected Poems” was shortlisted for the Greek National Literary Awards the highest literary recognition of Greece.
Distinguished Awards
Winner of the Dr. Asha Bhargava Memorial Award, Writers International Network Canada, 2014
“George Seferis-Collected Poems” translated by Manolis, shortlisted for the Greek National Literary Awards, translation category.
1st International Poetry Prize for his translation of “George Seferis-Collected Poems”, 2013
Master of the Arts in Literature, International Arts Academy, 2013
1st Prize for poetry, 7th Volos poetry Competition, 2012
Honorary instructor and fellow, International Arts Academy, 2012
2nd Prize for short story, Interartia festival, 2012
2nd Prize for Poetry, Interartia Festival, 2012
2nd Prize for poetry, Interartia Festival, 2011
3rd prize for short stories, Interartia Festival, 2011
Books by Manolis
Autumn Leaves, poetry, Ekstasis Editions, 2014
Übermensch/Υπεράνθρωπος, poetry, Ekstasis Editions, 2013
Mythography, paintings and poetry, Libros Libertad, 2012
Nostos and Algos, poetry, Ekstasis Editions, 2012
Vortex, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2011
The Circle, novel, Libros Libertad, 2011
Vernal Equinox, poetry, Ekstasis Editions, 2011
Opera Bufa, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2010
Vespers, poetry by Manolis paintings by Ken Kirkby, Libros Libertad, 2010
Triptych, poetry, Ekstasis Editions, 2010
Nuances, poetry, Ekstasis Editions, 2009
Rendition, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2009
Impulses, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2009
Troglodytes, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2008
Petros Spathis, novel, Libros Libertad, 2008
El Greco, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2007
Path of Thorns, poetry, Libros Libertad, 2006
Footprints in Sandstone, poetry, Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, 2006
The Orphans - an Anthology, poetry, Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, 2005
Translations by Manolis
Idolaters, a novel by Joanna Frangia, Libros Libertad, 2014
Tasos Livaditis-Selected Poems, Libros Libertad, 2014
Yannis Ritsos-Selected Poems, Ekstasis Editions, 2013
Cloe and Alexandra-Selected Poems, Libros Libertad, 2013
George Seferis-Collected Poems, Libros Libertad, 2012
Yannis Ritsos-Poems, Libros Libertad, 2010
Constantine P. Cafavy - Poems, Libros Libertad, 2008
Cavafy-Selected Poems, Ekstasis Editions, 2011
Books in other languages
Eszmelet, (Hungarian), poetry by Manolis Aligizakis, translated into Hungarian by Karoly Csiby, AB-ART, Bratislava, Slovakia, 2014
Hierodoules, (Greek), poetry, Sexpirikon, Salonica, Greece, 2014
Yperanthropos,(Greek), poetry, ENEKEN Publications, Salonica, Greece, 2014
Übermensch (German), poetry by Manolis Aligizakis, translated into German by Eniko Thiele Csekei, WINDROSE, Austria, 2014
Nostos si Algos, (Romanian) poetry by Manolis Aligizakis, translated into Romanian by Lucia Gorea, DELLART, Cluj-Napoca, Romania, 2013
Tolmires Anatasis, (Greek) poetry, GAVRIILIDIS EDITIONS, Athens, Greece, 2013
Filloroes, (Greek ) poetry, ENEKEN PUBLICATIONS, Thessaloniki, Greece, 2013
Earini Isimeria, (Greek) poetry, ENEKEN PUBLICATIONS, Thessaloniki, Greece, 2011
Stratis o Roukounas, (Greek) novel, MAVRIDIS EDITIONS, Athens, Greece, 1981
Magazines
Canadian Fiction Magazine—Victoria, BC
Pacific Rim Review of Books—Victoria, BC
Canadian Poetry Review—Victoria, BC
Monday Poem, Leaf Press-Lantzville, BC
The Broadkill Review, Milton, Delaware
Ekeken, Thessaloniki, Greece
Envolimon, Beotia, Greece
Annual Literary Review, Athens, Greece
Stigmes, Crete, Greece
Apodimi Krites, Crete, Greece
Patris, Crete, Greece
Nyxta-Mera, Chania, Greece
Wallflowers, Thessaloniki, Greece
Diasporic Literature Spot, Melbourne, Australia
Black Sheep Dances, California, USA
Diasporic Literature Magazine, Melbourne, Australia
Spotlight on the Arts, Surrey, BC
Barnwood, International Poetry Magazine, Seattle, USA
Unrorean, University of Maine, Farmington, Maine, USA
Vakhikon, Athens, Greece
Paremvasi, Kozani, Greece
Szoros Ko, Bratislava, Slovakia
Mediterranean Poetry, Sweden
Apostaktirio, Athens, Greece
Life and Art, Athens, Greece
Logos and Images, Athens, Greece
Contemporary Writers and Thinkers, Athens, Greece
Palinodiae, Athens, Greece
Royal City Poet’s Anthology, 2013, New Westminster, BC, Canada
To parathyro, Paris, France
Ragazine C.C, New Jersey
Artenistas, Athens Greece
Deucalion the Thessalos, Greece.
Literary Lectern, Athens, Greece
Homo Universalis, Athens Greece
Leaves Green leaves of courage brown leaves of frustration their endless endurance against decay that settles each autumn as we stand by the tree roots listening to secrets told in sunbeams or moonless nights and silence still controls forgotten thoughts begotten aspirations while leaves don’t bother with systemic schemes rules of engagement and thoughts residing in analyzing minds
and nations and borders and other similar things that don’t inspire but because they both always stood alone, free, great, brave and strong throughout the eons. And now, I despair that even today no one ever understood me, but what am I saying, nobody wished to understand me. Certainly, the same luck might be applied to the words about Bolivar which I’ll repeat tomorrow about Androutsos? Besides, it isn’t easy, to sense the importance of faces such as Androutsos and Bolivar Similar symbols. But let us pass quickly: no, in the name of God, not any emotions, exaggerations and despairs. Indifferent, my voice was meant for the eons. (In the near or distant future, in a few or many years, perhaps the day after tomorrow or the day after that, until the hour when the Earth will start flowing empty, useless and dead in space, new people will wake up, with mathematical accuracy, during the wild nights, on their beds, they might shed tears on their pillows and wondered who I was, thinking that I existed once, what words I said, and hymns I sang. And the huge waves that each evening splash onto the seven shores of Hydra and the wild rocks and the high mountain from which the storm charges down endlessly, tirelessly, they shall call my name).
Parasites The big rivers of the world swallow the little ones my mind travels to the bloodied dreams of creeks to bloomed shadows unexpressed souls poems that weren’t finished here where everything changes the immutable parasites lurk they erotically wrap themselves around innocence declaring the coming of loneliness
Abal* Her teary eyes peruse her doll With one of its arms severed Abal still plays with her beloved doll as if nothing had happened The doll still has one arm from which she grabs it fate in the form of the bomb that fell the night of last fall didn’t select between the two girls One arm missing from Abal One arm is missing from her doll Two arms of two dolls missing in action
A girl’s name which means wild rose in Syrian language.
And when we wanted to talk we suddenly went silent. Through the open window we listened to the footsteps of the moribund coming from afar. How could our talk warm up such frost; how could our door protect us from all this night as two people threw their great shadow between us. What will it become of us, my beloved? My beloved, are you listening to me? No, it’s not the wind that reaches from afar. You’d say thousands of footsteps descended to the roads; thousands of boots pound their nails on the asphalt. Where do they go? How can they go away? How could I’ve lived away from you, my beloved? How would I’ve lighted a lamp if it wasn’t to see you? How would I’ve looked at the wall without your shadow spread on it? How would I’ve leaned on a table where you hadn’t rested your hands? How could I’ve touched a slice of bread if we didn’t share it? This noise becomes stronger in time; there’s no place to sleep. There’s no corner where you can sit. No, it isn’t the wind that comes from far away. Come, rip our bed-sheet, my beloved, rip your dress and fill the cracks. People put all their belongings in a sack because all their household
THE LAST DAY The words have left me, Lord, what a confusion in my whole being, what a desolation… Another dead-beat comes and it occupies me. The angel is leaving because of my carelessness as I ignored him. I’m running for the sake of running making no progress. Even today, I’ve ruined time for it to have fun! Then a walk in tango steps. Only the battle noise is heard. And I’m waiting for Godot.
Newspaper He opened the newspaper under the light of the kitchen seeking to brighten the news of last night’s muggings, break-ins, and murders. After he took a deep breath knowing he contributed in beautifying the world of this ugly modern city he put the coffee pot on as if he had to go to war again and needed his morning fix
the civil rights movement would make headlines in the Soviet Union. It would probably be couched in the language of the state extolling how the slave masses had risen up against the capitalist oppressors or some such jargon. She realized she had not seen a single black person since her arrival in the country, although Moscow University reportedly attracted African students. “Excuse me. I am naïve,” he went on. “I must ask a very important question. Promise me not to laugh?” She nodded. “Is it only black persons who make jazz music in Canada or America? Or can white people like me make jazz?” She tried not to grin at his earnestness. “Why would you ask that? Lots of people of all colours play jazz! You’re safe there to play whatever music you want…” She could see his discomfort, so she continued more gently. “It’s true, jazz has its roots among black musicians, that’s for sure. Many of them grew up singing in church choirs, like Aretha Franklin, for example. She’s my favourite. Do you know her?” “No, tell me.” They spent the next while with Jennifer dredging up anything from her memory that she had ever learned about jazz, gospel or blues in the west to share with Volodya. While they were engrossed in this, Alya tapped on the door and entered with a bottle of brandy, some cheese, bread and a cut-up cake that she served. She settled herself comfortably with an air of possession. When the three were seated, the woman’s eyes swept up and down Jennifer appraisingly. She asked the usual questions in broken English. Where did she work? Was she married? Jennifer responded more quickly this time on the marriage question. She had decided to answer questions with the vague, “My husband and I no longer live together,” rather than a more elaborate explanation. Volodya switched on a radio that played American swing music. “It’s time for Voice of America,” he told her. “Reception is good at this time of day.” “They must be broadcasting from somewhere outside of the Soviet Union?” “Military base in Germany, I think.” “Please eat,” said Alya, who was not having any of the cake herself. Jennifer was just getting ready to ask Alya about herself when the woman swung toward Volodya in a gesture of approval. She rose, made her apologies, and left the bedroom with a significant glance at the bed.
“Well,” Tanya said, “you certainly have as nice a string of horses as I have ever seen. You have a dozen good horses here that are better than all the horses I have ridden in my entire life. What are you going to do with them?” “What do you mean?” Joel asked. “Well, the word around the rodeo grounds is that, with you running the Circle H, it isn’t going to be as easy as it has in the past for a cowboy or horse trainer to pick up a CircleHhorse. You know, a lot of those cowboys came to depend on your dad for quality horses at a cheap price. I used to hear them say that they were only afraid of one thing—that your dad would leave the ranch one day and discover what other people were selling their horses for. I heard that there are a couple of trainers that aren’t too pleased with you, Joel.” “Well, news certainly does travel fast in these hills, doesn’t it?” “So what are you going to do?” Tanya pressed. “I am not sure. After the success of selling the old blonde mare, I started to figure out that I have some pretty sought-after stock here. I am just trying to figure out what would work best. Do you know Cindy at the auction yard? We had lunch a week or so ago and she was saying that she might be able to interest her boss, Roy, in doing a special sale right out here at the ranch. I don’t know about that, but, with these horses coming along the way they are and the end of summer around the corner, I guess I better figure out what would work best. What would you do if these were your horses?” “The first thing I would do is pinch myself to make sure that I am not dreaming. Just about any horse is beautiful to me, but these are special animals. And if everything I hear about their breeding is true, this may be the finest band of horses in this part of the country. Is it true? Are the mares all daughters or granddaughters of Doc Bar? Is your stud an own son of Topsail Cody? That would be really incredible!” “Incredible it is. Yes, that is exactly what we have. There is only the one old mare that is left that is a daughter of Doc Bar
That was something the clients wouldn’t understand. He could only try to convince them using the excuse of averaging down but he couldn’t risk pushing them, and he couldn’t blame them for refusing. The shares hadn’t done much for them. Why would they want to invest even more. He called Logan back into his office. “Who can we approach to promote this a little? Who do you have who might be interested? We can base our argument on the prospect of new brokers coming in.” “I don’t know, Dad. We could burn a few people with this. You know that.” “Give it some thought. Perhaps we could offer an incentive.” “It would still be a hard sell. When they look at this market, they’ll see weakness. Who would go into that, incentive or not? And incentive from whom? From us? I wouldn’t risk it for someone like Richard.” Logan sounded disappointed by his father’s willingness to support Richard Walden when the older man knew very well that this company wasn’t likely to go up any time soon. “What have we done with the disposal of some of the real estate company’s stock? Have you talked to anyone?” Eteo asked, changing the subject to one they were both more comfortable with. “Yes, and we got a few approvals. I already have some orders filled and some still in the market. I’m bidding for some new shares already for the clients I’ve already sold.” “Very good. Let’s focus on that for today and tomorrow.” Logan went back to his desk, and Eteo turned his armchair toward the window. He gazed at the blue sky and leaned his chair back a little, closing his eyes and traveling back to a place where the sun was bright and hot most of the year and where he used to go swimming as early as April. He would go to visit his brother soon. He would spend a month or more over there. Logan could look after the clients.