The Ides of March Beware of grandeur, oh soul. And if you can not overcome your ambitions, pursue them with hesitant precaution. And the more you go forward, the more inquiring and careful you must be. And when you reach your zenith, as a Caesar at last; when you take on the role of such a famous man, then most of all be careful when you go out on the street, like any famous master with your entourage, if by chance some Artemidoros approaches out of the crowd, bringing you a letter, and says in a hurry “Read this at once, these are serious matters that concern you,” don’t fail to stop; don’t fail to postpone every speech or task; don’t fail to turn away the various people who greet you and bow to you (you can see them later); let even the Senate wait, for you must consider at once the serious writings of Artemidoros.
Idol Between your eyes the idol in the mirror stares at you words float as if above a boiling pot in shapes of dreams brimming steam adds your love for the outcast your emotional battle between blackness and nabobism that breaks your heart fingers feel the cold glass balancing your heart’s jest with the meaning of the unfathomable
Jef, the Great Automaton … Est-ce quelque dedale ou ta raison perdue ne se retrouve pas? Fr. De Malherbe
When midnight comes, Jef, the great automaton proudly says the words, eternal words and deceptive and futile, yet so advantageous for the satin eyes we loved, remember? Do you remember or would you rather try to tame them into a siren’s voice in the nets of their hair, which mercilessly ploughed the knitted and turned-off lamps of the flowing water…the flowing voices…the imagination…of the great erotic beds. Nothing of all these? Nothing. Then, the heights are meant for us. We must focus on the heights. Like the nihilist, who sprouts up in the air like a live flower. And as we must come down from the heights, let us do so. But, then again, with flowers, like flowers, with palaces, with spring music, with words of love and eyes of love. Set aside, be joyous, with your big eyebrows and open the big eyelids of the cloud. Look: the metal flutes are in a straight line over the carpet of dew. Here is what we call joy. Yes, this is known as the tender touch of a beloved woman. This is the law of life, the frontman of the sun, the sun of silence. Pay attention to these words. They have many obvious and hidden meanings. They are words full of metaphysical concepts, they are the depths of bitterness and mountains of joy. They are words life says, words the noisy piano key of love says, the bronze echo of love, Jef, the midnight great automaton.
Logan getting up and walking to the shower. The sound of the water mixed with the chirping of birds in the trees around the house. Logan came down ready for an early departure to the office. “You’re up very early today, son,” Eteo said. “Yes, earlier than usual, but let me share a coffee with you before I go,” Logan replied. He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a cup, then sat next to his father. “What should we focus on today, Dad?” “Keep on buying slowly in the new company. We have plenty of orders, right?” “God, yes, at least half a million, but I’ll do it slowly.” “Yes, and carefully. If you notice anything strange, let me know right away. And don’t forget we have plenty to allocate to our clients from the private placement.” “Yes, I remember, and yet we still have lots of orders. When the market goes after it like we do, what do you think will happen to the price?” “We don’t like to chase it up ourselves, you know. We want other people to do that.” “Yes, of course.” “And something else. Let’s try to unload some of that loser we bought a year ago, that real estate deal that didn’t do well. Let’s call a few of our people who invested in it and convince some of them to take the loss and reposition into this one. They’ll have a better chance of recovering their losses and maybe even making a few dollars this time. Get Helena to talk to some of them. Let’s see where that takes us.” “Okay, will do.” “Have you got enough stock for your key people?” “Not for all, but I’ll keep on buying. Slowly, as you said. We have enough right now for the two brothers and Angelo. Have you talked to them?” “Yes, I talked to them and to Yannis. Kenny too. Position him and his friends in this one, but slowly, as long as we get some stock for all of them, okay?”
Second Canto As the new language of despair formulates new gothic phrases I start painting my canvas with dark red carts carrying cadavers and lonely crosses toward the mountain peak remainder of her flattened breast perches firmly disassembled in the shadow of magnolia leaves the orphan sound of a lyre’s suffering scolds dawn when quiet amplifies the petty and stingy Where in hell is a grand goal to be followed? Where in hell is a maimed soldier to be consoled? Who the devil will keep a black-veiled widow company through dark hours of her soul’s nightmare? Nothing reveals a snip of shredded light other than indifference of the neighbor who trims junipers with a deep satisfaction of sedentary life stitched on his t-shirt’s nonsense logo then what’s left for old Death to do but toy with the ladybug on His hand and enjoy a disjointed farce of the eminent teen who thinks He knows everything? Are they not all alike? The last hurrah comes from hedging trees and withering hibiscus asserting: We can do better
III Oh dark shivering in the root and on the leaves! Appear sleepless stature in the crowded silence raise your head from your cupped hands let your wish be done and tell me again the words that touched and mixed in a bosom’s blood and let your desire bend like a deep walnut shade and let your hair’s grace flood us from the down of the kiss to the leaves of the heart. You lowered your eyes and you had the smile that master painters of bygone days humbly painted Forgotten reading from an ancient gospel your words breathed and your soft voice: “The passing of time is gentle and unworldly and pain rows softly in my soul down incising the sky, dream remains unsinkable and it is as though fragrant shrubs pass by. With the eye’s startling, with the body’s blushing flocks of doves awaken and descend their low circular fluttering encompasses me the stars a human touch on my breast. The distant and indescribable lament of the world I hear as in a conch mixed by the adversary’s buzz only for moments that vanish and the thought of my two pronged desire reigns alone. As though I had risen naked in a captured recollection when you came familiar and foreign, my precious to grant me bowing the endless deliverance that I seek from the wind’s swift sistrum…” The broken sundown faded and vanished as it seemed a fallacy to ask for the gifts of heaven. Your eyes were lowered. The moon’s thorn sprouted and you feared the mountain shadows. …How our love diminishes in the mirror dreams in our sleep, school of forgetfulness in the depths of time, how our hearts turn narrow and vanish in the rocking of a foreign embrace…
“But where would they go, otherwise?” Millie said. “There doesn’t appear to be much choice, does there? Corky, as nice a guy as he is when he’s sober, certainly isn’t a fit parent.” When Tyne didn’t answer, Millie pulled herself erect and stared at her. “You’re not thinking you should … that you could …? Tyne?” Tyne looked down and began to move her coffee mug in circles on the table. “Yes, Aunt Millie, we have talked about fostering the children. Would that be so bad?” Millie reached to cover Tyne’s hand, stopping its circular motion. Tyne looked up. “Goodness no, child, it isn’t wrong to want to do that. In fact, it would be really kind of you and Morley to take the children in. But are you ready for that? Have you thought of the commitment it would take to raise two young ones? And you’re just starting out in your marriage.” “I know … I know what you mean, Auntie. It would be a big decision, but we’ve grown to love Rachael and Bobby. Neither one of us can stand the thought of them being neglected like Ruby’s kids are.” And she went on to tell her aunt some of the ways the children had endeared themselves during the time they had lived on the farm. When they got up from the table to start the dinner, they were both laughing through their tears. Tyne carried their mugs to the sink, saying as she went, “It may be a moot point, anyway. We can’t make any plans until we know Corky’s wishes. But he’s a reasonable kind of guy when he’s sober; the trick will be in catching him when he is sober, and talking to him.” Millie put an arm around Tyne’s shoulders. “Leave it in God’s hands, dear, and seek his will. Remember, all things work together for good to those who love him.” Tyne smiled and covered her aunt’s hand with her own. “Yes, Auntie, I know that even though it’s a hard lesson to learn sometimes.” She turned and kissed Millie’s smooth cheek. “Thanks for being here for me like always. I love you.” As they set to work to prepare the noon meal, Tyne’s heart felt lighter than it had for days.
Peace of a Full Stomach Citizen watches TV ordinarily beer belly exposed tight tee-shirt jogging pants fluffy comfort mind mutated by fat extreme superiority over masses of colourful citizens of the faraway places where beasts live mind mutated by the notion of entitlement revisionists accentuated underscore the importance of new smart bombs that outsmart foreign defences calculations, exact results deleting hypotheses and estimates The unprecedented precision of missiles controlled by a computer dark green glow of a screen fingers manipulate the Enter button boom
Volodya stirred from his place on the bench, one arm over her shoulders. His face betrayed an odd mixture of pride in his home and uneasiness at the conversation. “You have no idea how much suffering,” he replied. “This very spot, these buildings around us, were built by Swedish prisoners of war during Peter’s time. This was a swamp and many of them died working in it, their bodies beneath us in this earth.” He shuddered. “Then, of course, there was bloodshed during the Revolution… That boat—you can almost see it from here, the cruiser Aurora—it fired the first shots after Our Leader, Lenin, arrived in the city to rally the workers in 1917. Those years meant war and famine. There is not much recorded because the state does not want to remember those bad times.” “The city was under siege again in the Second World War, I know,” added Jennifer, “and many died of hunger.” She felt privileged to hear the stories of its history from a real Leningrader and not from their pedantic tour guide. “Yes, those years are well documented. The destruction was visited upon us from the Nazis, not from the revolutionary forces.” He fell quiet for a time. “I love this city,” he went on, “but it illustrates a horrible truth. It seems that anything that rises up and is good must always be built on suffering. This city has a legacy of suffering and bloodshed but it has survived, and it’s good. What was that word you used? Joyous?” “Yes, joyous,” and the thought of the untapped beauty still to be found in this extraordinary place made her swell with emotion. She leaned over to kiss him, not for the physical act of kissing, but because she wanted to seal that thought with something meaningful. He was surprised at her gesture but soon kissed her back. When they finally fell gently away from one another, a few faint stars had appeared in the sky. ★ On the fourth day in Leningrad she noticed that, suddenly, the stores were stocked with Israeli oranges. Everywhere women shopped in pairs, each carrying one handle of a shopping bag overflowing with the fruit. At the end of a long afternoon together, Jennifer and Volodya stood
Manolis Aligizakis 