Eternal Power Savage freedom, primeval force, creative Monad enduring the tediously passing time that was his doctrine, the comfort for the thin man with the thick eyeglasses and the gigantic moustache the Dionysian transcendence of normal and humble life, his dogma and his resolve to spread over the land, everywhere humble men found comfort, he saw rebellion, where they found solace, he found strength to stand up and demand renewal and constant change. Anywhere the humble men accepted only the useful, he accepted only the dangerous and renewing eternal retribution, eternal re-wording; he sought to live the life of his beloved Übermensch
…the moment if they didn’t interfere with his driving them to their destination. On the other hand, could he ask them to stop? Why, could they answer, and what could he say to such a question? Strange beast, the human mind, as it went from one thing to another, like a crazy monkey who jumped from one branch of a tree to another, just like Costa’s which ran to his good trip back at the Four Seasons to which he was eager to reach on time, so his customer wouldn’t get impatient and take a different cab to the airport. He looked at his watch: his time was just fine; finally, he arrived at the Cypress Bowl, and he realized that his customers in the back were half dressed and half not, such was their erotic oestrus during the trip… upon realizing that they had arrived at their place they quickly fixed their clothes, the man paid the driver and taking his half-dressed sweetheart by the waist they walked to the front door of their place. The driver said goodbye to them and started his return to the city of Vancouver and to the Hotel where he arrived earlier than the time we had agreed with the smoker. However, Costa saw his customer waiting in the lobby. Costa walked over, grabbed his bag, put it in the trunk, opened the back door for him, and started the trip to the airport. Around the sixteenth and Granville, they started the usual little talk, “Where are you from? How long have you been here? Etc. Costa informed his customer that he came from Hellas and had lived here for six years. The customer mentioned that he was a Turk, from Ankara, on his way to Los Angeles for business. Oh, God, what just happened? The earth started swirling around like a wind vane, like a top on a flat surface. And all this buzzing noise was like a swarm of bees in Costa’s head, as if desperately looking for honey. Endless pounding against his two temples turned that buzzing noise into a thundering hatred. In which school have they taught him to hate this man so much? In which church have they turned him into such a fanatic? How many eons of anger and hatred has he lived, and why is he in such a dreadful condition? How was it possible that all his ancestors had resurrected and stood before him demanding revenge? Why all this hatred today, and why have all his ancestral parents, brothers, and sisters awakened…
He threw his head back and laughed. But it wasn’t a mirthful sound. “In Nimkus? That’ll be the day.” He gulped his coffee, pushed his chair back roughly and went out. Sarah stared after him, unaware that two tears were sliding down her cheeks. O The road to the neighbours proved to be little more than a cow trail across the adjoining farms. Flicka’s hooves scattered yellow petals of black-eyed Susans as she trotted over the dry pasture land. Due to Ben’s warning, Sarah became especially cautious when they reached the path along the ravine. But she need not have worried, because Flicka navigated it with a sure-footed gait, and ignored the brush covered bank that fell away to the gully a hundred feet below. Only a thin ribbon of murky water was visible at its base, but Ben said that after a heavy rain it became a gushing river. Another quarter mile along the path, after rounding a poplar bluff, Flicka came to a halt at a barbed wire fence that obviously divided the Fielding and McNeill properties. Sarah dismounted to open the prairie gate. The farm site was now visible, and she could see that they were approaching it from the back. A country road ran close by the front of the two-storied white frame house. The house itself stood in the shade of a grove of maple trees. A windmill stood sentinel between the house and the outbuildings, and Sarah felt a pang of envy when she realized that their neighbours had electric lighting. This farm seemed a sharp contrast to the ones she had seen on the road from Nimkus. Every outbuilding, from the smallest shed to the imposing hip-roofed barn, sported a dark red coat of paint. They came to another gate and, as Sarah prepared to dismount, she saw a man wave to her from where he had been bending over the engine of a red tractor. “Hold it,” he called, “I’ll get the gate for you.” As he walked towards her, closely followed by a brown and white mongrel dog, Sarah could see that this was not Dave McNeill. Although tall, he appeared shorter than Dave, and his curly hair was darker although definitely auburn. But when he grinned up at her where she sat astride Flicka, she could see the features were …
Whispers ran through the audience. As Swan spoke, Engine Fred saw a tall man with powerful shoulders enter the chamber through a door in the wall behind the council table. The man stood looking out at the audience. I’ve seen him somewhere, Fred thought. “However, our population does not qualify us to be considered a first class city under the state’s definition. Therefore, section 34 does not apply.” At the end of the table, a large councilman’s face reddened. His jowls shook as he spoke. “Mr. President, I move that this council go on record as recognizing that we are a first class city in every respect, I don’t care what some state law says. Why, there’s no greater place in the United States to raise a family and……” “Mr. Stout,” Spear said, “I’m sure we all agree with that sentiment, but I would like to ask you to hold your motion for a regular meeting of the council. Mr. Swan, you may proceed.” Swan cleared his throat. “There is another section of the code that may apply in this matter. RCW 9.66.010 says, ‘A public nuisance is a crime against the order and economy of the state. Every place (1) Wherein any fighting between people or animals or birds shall be conducted; or, (2) Wherein any intoxicating liquors are kept for unlawful use, sale or distribution; or,’ ” Swan paused, cleared his throat and ran his hand down his tie and shirt front. What an annoying little man, Fred thought. The way he reads those numbers, you can see the parentheses. “ ‘or, (3) Where vagrants resort; and every act unlawfully done and every omission to perform a duty, which act or omission (1) Shall annoy, injure or endanger the safety, health, comfort, or repose of any considerable number of persons; or, (2) Shall offend public decency; or, (3) Shall unlawfully interfere with, befoul, obstruct, or tend to obstruct, or render dangerous for passage, a lake, navigable river, bay, stream, canal or basin, or a public park, square, street, alley, highway, or municipal transit vehicle or station; or, (4) Shall in any way render a considerable number of persons insecure…
…his eyes bulged with anger, and his lips curled back like a snarling dog’s. His right hand swung from his side and slapped Padraig so hard across the face it seemed to smash every bone. Then back the big hand swung. The knuckles smacked Padraig across the cheek and nose. The nose spurted blood. Padraig felt the hot stream on his lip and chin. “You sneaking, cowardly lecherer!” Michael roared. “You guttersnipe priest! You bastard son of Satan! I’ll kill you.” He burled his fist and crashed it down on Padraig’s face and head and shoulders. Then he pushed the priest away from him with a snarl. Padraig stumbled backwards and fell against the chancel steps. Michael rushed forward, roaring like a bull. With both hands he picked up the priest’s limp body and hurled it the full length of the chancel. Like an empty sack Padraig hit the floor and slid forward. His back struck an upright of the altar-rail, and his body swung round and stopped with a crack of his head against the altar. Michael’s chest was heaving up and down, pumping his anger. He threw himself against the pulpit; it keeled over and crashed like a felled tree. In a frenzy he could no longer control he turned and ran to the opposite wall, tore down the picture of Christ walking on the water and smashed it against the front pew. Then he raced out of the church. Michael knew that Caitlin had taken the shore path homewards. He had seen her wend her way through the graveyard and head westwards along the cliff-top. She had pulled her shawl tight around her against the coldness of the bright, clear dawn. He followed her, walking quickly, almost running. He reached the end of the line of low cliffs. The path slithered down a steep hill to meet the shore. Pausing on the lip of the hill, he saw Caitlin ahead of him, hurrying homewards like a cat. He left the path and ran straight down the grass-covered hillside. A few sheep bolted in front of him, then swung away to one side or the other. A couple of gulls rose from a rock in the grass, wheeled in a wide arc through the air and settled again. Michael was blind to them. He saw only the lonely figure in the white shawl to which he was drawing closer. He rejoined the path near a patch of brambles. Caitlin was barely a hundred yards away. Michael chased after her. The chumpf of breaking waves and the roll-rock chinner of the backwash sounded in his pounding ears. Then Caitlin’s head jerked round. She stopped and turned to face him. Fear and guilt froze in her eyes. “Michael,” she cried, but more in a plea than a greeting.
“You mean with tax collectors and sinners,” Tyne had said, tonguein- cheek. “Well, I didn’t mean it quite like that,” Morley said, grinning, “but how can people be saved if they don’t hear the Word? And how will they hear the Word if no one tells them?” Morley may not be preaching the Word as he mixed with people but, Tyne was quite sure, his life and the way he lived it would be a testimony in itself. Tyne had spent a troubled week, and it was only because of Aunt Millie’s persuasive powers that she was here tonight. Since the morning her dad had dropped the bombshell of Morley’s involvement with Jennifer Sears, she had been determined not to attend this meeting. Now she knew why the schoolteacher had suggested a combined meeting with the Building & Grounds Committee. Although, Tyne had to admit, Aunt Millie had been receptive to Jennifer’s idea, so she must have thought it had merit. Unless …. Why had the schoolteacher’s suggestion appealed to Millie? Had Jennifer played right into her hands? Without any effort on her part, had Millie seen the perfect way of getting Tyne and Morley in the same room together? Tyne’s thoughts were jumbled. Why would Aunt Millie want to throw us together again? Doesn’t she know how much it hurt me when we broke up? And even if she’s entertaining hopes of us getting back together, can’t she see it’s all so hopeless? Tyne was jolted from her thoughts when she heard her name spoken. Startled, and not a little disoriented, she looked up. “I’m sure you all know my niece, Tyne Milligan,” Millie was saying. “She came home to look after her father when he had a stroke.” Millie turned her head to look fondly at Tyne. “Since she’s now a graduate nurse, I’m sure she’ll be a great asset to our committee.” There were murmurs of assent around the table, particularly from the men who had been unaware of Tyne’s involvement. She tried to avoid looking directly at Morley, but her eyes were drawn to his face. His look was inscrutable as he said, “Welcome, Tyne. We can certainly use all the help we can get.”
Leaving Trees fell on the ground, wide open doors, and a black dress under the stones. We took the roads, other windows, and other places. The dog turned his ear; it didn’t wag his tail. What we learned, we called ours, nothing, nothing — only a painted plate in the child’s room, if you took it with you, perhaps things would have been better (I wonder whether it would have died). Deep carefreeness for lack of ownership, he said, and lack of hatred. And the pain feels tiring at night, thus stooped over the aluminum pot, the steam hides the hand that holds the ladle. You have forgotten; they have forgotten you. Hypnotized world quietness. Given up keys. The hotel manager talks to Autumn in front of the stable. The prison guard was tied to the railings. A lardy star onto the chimney. Broken glass on the soil. Be careful, don’t walk barefoot. The dead men, although silent for years, don’t forget their share.
At the Movie Theater I’ll wear the new red overcoat. You will wear your blue shirt and jeans. One of our favored films will be shown the ‘Lover’ or “Casablanka’ or “Hiroshima my Love”. I shall cry as always. You’ll kiss the volcano of my palm. You’ll caress my hair softly that it won’t break because of a memory fluttering in your mind that we’ve lived these events in the past, back then in Vienna, beginning of the century in a teke in Konstantinoupoli or even behind a garden. Your hand won’t touch my body it’ll simply be part of it like the phallus or one of the Fates and that way sitting next to each other in complete darkness among all these people precisely in the now we’ll swim together inside each other. And finally when the black whale swallows us, look, we shall say, that day we went to the movie.
Void Don’t call it void or meaningless, this poem, only empty of what you’ve deleted its meaning and still full of twists and mental corners robbed of its depth like his palms nailed on the cross didn’t let the tree limb extend and gain wisdom but it was spring their boiling blood forced their eager hands to rob this poem of its unwritten meaning nothing on the branch of the birch but the lone owl crying give me strength and give me air: wisdom filling the abyss
Backing the horses out of the trailer, Tanya led them around, giving them a chance to stretch their legs and survey their new surroundings while Joel checked in at the office and got directions to their stabling area. The good news was that the stalls they were assigned were still in the state of Oklahoma. But just barely. After stabling the horses and unloading their gear, Tanya and Joel headed to the arena. As they arrived, they realized that they were just in time to watch the evening’s performance. So that night, after a long three days of hauling their two horses across the country, they settled back to get the feel of the arena as they ate hot dogs, drank soft drinks, and watched the cutting and working cow horse classes.When it was all done they realized that they were tired and needed to find their hotel in a hurry. After one last check on their horses, which seemed to have taken to their new surroundings quite nicely, Joel and Tanya drove over to the hotel to claim their room for the next few days. Tanya insisted to Joel that he could have the bedroom, and she would take the couch. Reluctantly, Joel accepted Tanya’s firm offer. After unpacking, they fell asleep to dreams of victory in the show ring.
Manolis Aligizakis 