Must Continue
Barefoot I walk up the ivory tower.
The ebony steps caress my soles;
and what awaits you up there?
A mess left by the previous occupant.
Paper basket full of crumpled manuscripts.
Not to be smooth over them, but must continue
what has been interrupted unexpectedly.
Excerpt
WASHINGTON D.C. IS CLOUDY and cold on this September morning.
Despite still feeling tired, Matthew gets up at 6 a.m., his usual time. The only
days he allows himself to sleep in are the rare days when he is at home, in bed
with Emily. Those days are special to him, as he can linger in bed and, if he is
lucky, have a morning session of sex with his wife. But those days are so rare;
at times he wonders why she has been with him all this time, in a life so
deprived of sexual satisfaction, since he hardly gives her any pleasure with his
quickies, as they call their lovemaking sessions. And he doesn’t count the true
love the romantic books of poetry discuss in their verses, because Matthew is
a true believer that such love doesn’t exist, that a man never loves a woman
that way, unless he’s a dreamer or having hallucinations. He walks to the
bathroom sink and washes his face, shaves, and brushes his teeth. He puts on
his usual suit for the office, clothes that he has carried in the same suitcase for
so many years. Then he goes down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast before
heading to work.He orders ham and eggs with hash browns, toast, and coffee.
This is the all-American breakfast which he is a strong believer in having
every day, even when at home.
“Never go out without a good breakfast in your stomach,” his father always
said, and Matthew Roberts never forgets that.
The server brings his food a few minutes later, as he enjoys his coffee while
reading the newspaper headlines.
Matthew has traveled between Los Angeles and Washington for thirty years,
all this time with the same government agency. Jennifer wasn’t even born when
he started this job. As a young computer analyst, he had many job opportunities.
However, he got lucky and this department was in a recruiting mode back in
those days. Now, after all this time, he looks back, and feels satisfied with the path
he has taken and where it has led him. After all, he is second in command. A few
more years and he can see himself retiring at last, with a good severance pay and
good pension. Then he will spend more time with Emily, whom he misses so
much, and with his daughter, who has been raised almost alone by her mother.
Then he will visit his father in Arkansas, who has been alone for such a long time
Excerpt
It might have been dropped into the harbour
directly from the China Seas. Ken explored the floating palace and then
stood on the railing leaning over the side, his eyes growing wider as they
passed under the Lions Gate Bridge and chugged into the open waters
of Georgia Strait. The sheer immensity of the snow-capped mountains,
forested islands and vast ocean staggered him. Gulls swooped by, eagles
soared overhead, seals and sea lions dived into the water.
After docking in Nanaimo, Ken drove north on a narrow gravel road,
badly rutted and peppered with potholes. The TR2, with its worn shocks,
rattled up the road that lay at the bottom of a canyon, its sides covered
in giant firs. When he arrived at Nile Creek and found the little cottage
he had been directed to, he knocked on the door and handed his letter of
introduction to the elderly couple who greeted him.
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” they said. “Monsieur Desjardines wrote
to us a number of times; telling us about you, and the wonderful times he
had with you in Portugal, and about how you want to be a Canadian.”
They took Ken out to the mouth of the creek where the water was so
thick with salmon it presented a solid wall.
The next morning they launched a rowboat and rowed out to the kelp
beds, that lay several hundred yards from shore. After tying up to the
outer rim of the semi-translucent mass, they cast their lures along the
edge of the kelp bed. The moment the lure hit the water a fish struck.
Then, miraculously the fish leapt into the air, dancing on the water. Listening
to the old man’s shouted instructions, Ken learned how to handle
Pacific salmon. They pulled in one fish after another, each cast of the line
producing another salmon. When the big box in the bottom of the boat
was almost filled they tossed them back, keeping two for their supper.
Ken spent the rest of the week fishing, and drawing fish – particularly
the cutthroat trout that fascinated him even more than the salmon.
His next trip was to the wild country near Kamloops. As he drew close
to Merritt the countryside grew arid with rugged rolling hills and tall
ponderosa pines, which gradually gave way to a vast grassland covered
with scrub.
He drove up the Nicola Valley, drinking in the smell of sage and basking
in the golden autumn sun. Bees buzzed lazily, half asleep in the golden
fields. Eventually he found the gravel road he was looking for that
climbed up and up into the mountains. He drove through the Stump
Lake Ranch and past the sign that said, “Peter Hope Fishing Camp”. He
drove on through mud puddles so deep that the water seeped through
the floorboards. When he could drive no farther, he parked and walked
across a small creaking bridge to an island with a tiny log cabin wearing
fresh golden logs on one side, and old weathered logs on the other.
Ken knocked on the door.
HOSPITAL
I have to carry nitroglycerin with me
like a Native American carries a rabbit
leg.
My roommate is measuring his heart
rate.
The cleaning lady wanted to be a doctor,
but has stuck somewhere.
It’s snowing like it did when I was a
child.
I’m right in the middle of a conflict.
I love flowers on the windowsill.
My roommate is measuring his heart
rate again.
I’m waiting for the New Year’s Eve
2033.
I’m listening to a melody
About apple tree flowers
and the refrain – ref …
Excerpt
With that, the meeting was over. Eteo walked back to his office and called Mario at once to propose that Pacific Trends keep all the offering in house. On return he promised to give the guy at Wolverton something else in the future, or even get him in on this after the broker’s warrants were out. That sealed the deal. Mario agreed, and Eteo went back to watching his screen. Platinum Properties was doing great, Golden Veins the opposite. He called Richard Walden.
“Have you heard anything?” Eteo asked him
“No, nothing so far,” Richard admitted.
“When did you call last?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I guess they must still be working on it.”
“I wouldn’t assume that. I don’t like this at all. Why don’t you take a quick flight down there and check things out for yourself?”
“Go to Texas?” Richard’s voice sounded alarmed.
“Why not? It’s your money they’re spending.”
There was an uncomfortable silence at the other end of the line before Richard said, hesitantly, “I’m actually not that fond of airplanes and flying.”
“Okay, send one of your directors.”
“There must be another way,” Richard replied. “Let me call the finder, the man who brought me this deal. I’ll talk to him.”
“All right, but let me know what you find out. Who is it anyway? Do I know him?”
“It’s Walter Cooper.”
“I know Walter. I could talk to him. Yes, it might be better that way. Leave it to me. I’ll call him and get back to you,” Eteo said and put the phone down. He noticed he was breathing fast. It upset him.
Then he saw the big trades of Platinum stock, big chunks all bought by Nomura. He smiled and relaxed. The market looked clean even beyond the three dollar mark. He had hit a good one, he knew, and if Mario’s Nostra is agreed on by this group, he had better keep as much stock as he could for his accounts and give lots of it to his key people, the ones who did most of his business. Eteo had a large number of accounts, but only about fifteen percent of them traded often. Those were the clients he needed to reward when a good issue came along. Mario’s Nostra Ventures was beginning to look like it could be one of them.
THE FRAIL GAME OF
EFFERVESCENCE
My childhood, not at all vagrant, stubborn,
Is watching me,
Like the dolls from the fairs,
Detached, but fiercely lively ―
Giving me the shivers
Like the wolves’ hunger on a wintry night.
The other day I dreamt it was talking to me
With its freshly arrogant lips
And I just wanted to touch it shyly
Admiring the arch of its mouth’s corners,
When the round sap of its lips drew back
Under its thick eyelashes
And among them,
A huge, humid eye
Was watching me wondering
Like a dragon that had just returned from the sky.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763696
Flowing Narratives
It’s strange that still
after so many things I listened to
flowing narratives that the others don’t hear
my eternity fights and dies
broken chord shaking like flowers,
the flowing thoughts, the impassable
immortality I left all the doors open
to the purifying wind
so that I wouldn’t grow roots as
I floated over the events.
And now that we two are left
I and you in the unsaid
what else do you see besides
the completion of Eros
in the innermost depth of the emotions
the foolishness of immortality?
The road and the colony are one
evergreen daydream eternal breath
destiny of men in its exhale
ovules of a new breath
what do you see through the open window
I don’t want to leave before the day’s end
to the vague depth of the cove
traces of dark memories
stare deep in our eyes
this is the time
schemata of immenseness on the horizon
then let me know what you see.
Polysynthesis
Polysyllabic verse of white caps
tree tops obey the wind
abreast of the evening’s vesper
just before bedtime
in the peaceful wilderness
of the painter’s mind
that conceives war and peace
mind that ascends
to the abode of the Great Spirit
monocotyledon
no need for plural in the world
of the creative Monad crafting
colors and rocky bases
short islandic footsteps
of the Almighty who often laughs
at the little and grand
as they cling to their egomanias
no need for liturgy bells chiming
Manolis Aligizakis 