Post
Single post, two arms
slicing light into topmost
and shadowy pleats
prodding the mind with wish
for auspicious breezes
or an eloquent verse describing
grace of evergreen limb
outlining mischief of intent
lost feathers blown
by wind and misfortune
lustre absentia’s ideal
mind connecting to
eternity in a post and its rails
just two arms holding emptiness
Excerpt
In spite of her heavy heart, Tyne grinned. Dr. Dunston could lift her spirits simply by being present.
“If you hadn’t been away fishing, or whatever you were doing, you’d know that I got back to work two months ago.”
It was the doctor’s turn to grin. “Yeah, I guess.” He slapped her lightly on the back as he walked by to pick up a patient’s chart. “How’s it going, girl? How’s married life?”
Tyne smiled openly now. “It’s great. With a husband as wonderful as Morley, how could it be otherwise?” She sobered suddenly and indicated the chart he was holding. “I wish it was as great for your patient.”
Grant Dunston tapped the cover of the book-like chart. “Yeah … Lydia. What kind of night did she have?”
For a moment Tyne forgot her distress over Barry in her concern for Lydia Conrad and her children.
“Not good, I’m afraid. It’s not only her surgery she’s concerned about, but she’s worried sick about the children.”
Grant Dunston shrugged, but Tyne knew he wasn’t unconcerned. “Yeah, I know. If it wasn’t for that useless husband of hers ….”
“Dr. Dunston, what can be done for them? I mean, even while Lydia’s convalescing they’ll need care – more than she can give – and obviously she can’t depend on Corky.” Tyne closed a chart and pushed it back into its slot. She turned to face the doctor. “Isn’t there anyone who can take them in for a while? It would help Lydia’s recovery, too, if she knew they were being cared for.”
She realized that Dr. Dunston had been staring at her for several moments with a quizzical look.
“What ..?” she began, but stopped when his puckish features broke into a grin.
“How about you, Tyne?”
Her mouth fell open. “Me? Are you serious?”
“Sure, why not? You’ve got all that land for them to run around, and all those animals to amuse them, and all those good homegrown vegetables. They’d love it.”
Undivided
With his airy smile still reflecting
bygone glorious days
he stood amid the gravestones
and statuettes resembling
our dead comrades lost in battle
or in a hutment drenched in blood.
Suddenly his eyes dived deep into mine
he let a sigh go as silently as
the statuettes and whispered: only
this graceful smile will stay forever
remember this at the hour of reckoning
only this graceful smile remains
all the rest perish, vanish
like the fragrance of hyacinths
in the wind’s blow
like the love you make to a woman
like the sand through a sieve
or the fingers of your hand
yet this moment will last forever
because only the now can’t be divided
for everything else, they have found
pieces, fractions, and elements.
Talking to my Shadow
What is this shadow outside the window
the glance of time, the exiled messenger
vanishes in the flash of a lightning bolt
and unexpectedly returns
a threat or a promise
filled with old melodies, torn-off calendar pages
strange paths, unfamiliar destinations
over which echo of flowing cataracts
distancing footsteps of migratory gods
it stares through me beyond the moon
I won’t stay for too long, it says to me,
neither you
we are guards of a secret
that goes by daily
we have too much to learn even while on the road.
Escape of the Invisible
We saw his shadow spread over the door which opened.
The man who left was a stranger to us; no one had seen him
coming in, nor where he sat, what he thought. He hadn’t
said a single word. We only knew him from our comfort.
He talked in a low tone with many pauses especially
(and as if indifferently) the word, “stone” or “string”
without looking toward the spot, he’d have sat, knowing
with sad certainty that he’d leave again, while that white
fluff, breathing on the black hat, would remain on the chair.
Moonlight Sonata
Φορές-φορές, την ώρα που βραδιάζει, έχω την αίσθηση
πως έξω απ’ τα παράθυρα περνάει ο αρκουδιάρης με τη γριά
βαριά του αρκούδα
με το μαλλί της όλο αγκάθια και τριβόλια
σηκώνοντας σκόνη στο συνοικιακό δρόμο
ένα ερημικό σύννεφο σκόνη που θυμιάζει το σούρουπο
και τα παιδιά έχουν γυρίσει σπίτια τους για το δείπνο και δεν τ’
αφήνουν πια να βγουν έξω
μ’ όλο που πίσω απ’ τους τοίχους μαντεύουν το περπάτημα της
γριάς αρκούδας –
κι η αρκούδα κουρασμένη πορεύεται μες στη σοφία της μοναξιάς
της, μην ξέροντας για που και γιατί-
έχει βαρύνει, δεν μπορεί πια να χορεύει στα πισινά της πόδια
δεν μπορεί να φοράει τη δαντελένια σκουφίτσα της
να διασκεδάζει τα παιδιά, τους αργόσχολους, τους απαιτητικούς,
και το μόνο που θέλει είναι να πλαγιάσει στο χώμα
αφήνοντας να την πατάνε στην κοιλιά, παίζοντας έτσι το
τελευταίο παιχνίδι της,
δείχνοντας την τρομερή της δύναμη για παραίτηση,
την ανυπακοή της στα συμφέροντα των άλλων, στους κρίκους
των χειλιών της, στην ανάγκη των δοντιών της,
την ανυπακοή της στον πόνο και στη ζωή
με τη σίγουρη συμμαχία του θανάτου – έστω κι ενός αργού
θανάτου –
την τελική της ανυπακοή στο θάνατο με τη συνέχεια και τη
γνώση της ζωής
που ανηφοράει με γνώση και με πράξη πάνω απ τη σκλαβιά της.
Sometimes as evening comes I have the emotion
that outside the windows the bear handler goes by with
his old heavy she-bear
her hair full of thorns and thistles
creating dust on the neighborhood road
a lonely cloud of dust that rises like incense in the sundown
and the children return to their homes for supper and
are not allowed out anymore
although behind the walls they guess the old
bear’s footsteps –
and the tired bear marches in the wisdom of her loneliness
not knowing where or why –
she has grown heavy and she can’t dance on her hind legs
anymore
she can’t put on her lacy bonnet to entertain the children
the loafers or the ones who are hard to please
and the only thing she wants is to lie down on the ground
letting them step on her belly thus playing her
last game
showing her formidable power for resignation
her disobedience to others’ interests the rings in her lips
the needs of her teeth
her disobedience to pain and life
with her certain alliance with death – even a slow death –
her final disobedience to death with the continuance
and knowledge of life
that ascends with wisdom and action above her slavery
Manolis Aligizakis 