The afternoon sun was hiding behind light clouds as Eteo started his walk. The crowds had arrived at the Ambleside seawall as they did every fine day, and Eteo had to dodge groups of pedestrians from time to time. He saw Frankie again, but he was busy on his phone and only nodded and waved with his free hand. Eteo responded in kind, but suddenly his own phone rang and he stepped to the side of the path to answer. It was Richard calling from Calgary. “You never called me,” Richard complained. “Sorry, I got caught up in things.” “Never mind, I managed. We’ll see lots of buying as early as tomorrow or the next day at the latest. Two big brokers will come in. Stay on the bid and you’ll see.” “What happened?” Eteo needed a bit more detail than that. “Just stay on the bid,” Richard repeated, “and let them come and take the offers. Just follow the market up.” “I’ll keep my eyes open,” Eteo replied, not very happy to be fobbed off with generalities. Afterwards he speculated about the various scenarios of how these new brokers might come into the market.
Worry over everybody’s salvation overwhelmed me. At the moment, my own salvation seemed too big a task. I relaxed in the current and let my body drift as I focused on an old Christmas anthem. Humming, I sunk my head until only my face broke the surface, and relished in the gurgling of the water below and the expanse of mottled sky above framed by brilliant green trees. Some time later, I pulled myself toward shore, with the water under my chin. There was no doubt in my mind where I had left my clothes, but they were not there. A small monkey darted from one bush to another with my frock trailing behind him. I scrambled out of the water and picked up the rosary where I had left it hanging from a branch. I found my undergarments and shoulder cape muddied near the bushes. I put on my pants, and, just as I tied the laces and started off in pursuit, a rustle in the bushes cut me short. I was not at all prepared for such unadorned beauty. It was a young woman. Her large eyes reminded me of the sun drowning in the sea, the moment of its most striking beauty. They glittered, and I could see the light of her gaze sparkling on the ocean between us. Her giggle broke the spell; two dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. Her teeth were even and white, like pearls. She offered me my frock and I remembered I was almost naked. The monkey ran out of the bushes and climbed up her arm, perching on her shoulder. She was so fulfilling to look at, I almost resented the monkey’s familiarity.Atiara of yellow flowers adorned the head of that wild Aphrodite; her long hair was like braided streams rushing down chocolate-capped mountains. A stream of words tinkled from the sweetest smile. She offered me my frock, and the movement of her arm tore my eyes from her face. She pinched her nose and shook her head, but drifted toward me nonetheless. I recovered my frock and balled it up like a buckler, for she was now close enough for the warmth of her breath to cause the hairs of my nape to stand up on end. I stiffened as her hands came up to my face. She kept on talking. I listened to the inflections of her girlish
III The moon’s glowing silver face smiles as two minnows, the smallness of the world enter. The heart’s gracious great from the watery kingdom all grandiose and official as any small with power of ephemeral duration. Higher than the mighty whales they feel with the waves aside them and they relate life’s state in their bubbly cosmos: “The oceans’ movement has abruptly ceased there are no currents splashing unto Poseidon’s palace. Death in waiting. Psalms and chants we shall sing purifications we must perform for the orphan wavelets.”
As Much as You Can And if you can not lead your life the way you want it, at least try this as much as you can: do not degrade it in a crowded relationship with the world, in too many things and too much talk. Do not degrade it by showing it around, dragging it along and exposing it to the daily nonsense of relationships and associations until it is strange to you and a burden.
man of the board. As she returned to her place, she blinked back tears. Suddenly, the stress and excitement of the last few days – even the last few months – overwhelmed her. The culmination of three years of nurses’ training, the anxiety over her parents’ animosity towards the man she loved, the disappointment that one of her two best friends could not be graduating tonight, all gathered into a river of tears that rose in Tyne’s throat and threatened to gush from her eyes. Panicked, she darted a glance at Moe, and was saved by another broad wink and a cheeky grin from her friend. Good old Moe. Thank you, kid. As graduate after graduate walked to the podium, Tyne tried not to think of Carol Ann who should be with the nurses in the last row, soon going forward to receive the coveted diploma. But, thanks to Bryce Baldwin, Curly’s dream had died with her unborn child. Tyne tried to shake the negative thoughts. After all, Bryce had not acted alone, and Curly must certainly have been a willing partner. And it was hardly his fault that she had resorted to the measures she had to get rid of the baby. He had suggested she get an abortion but he could not make her do it. Tyne now remembered that a few days after her confrontation with Dr. Baldwin in the nursery, she had begun to harbour guilt feelings about the anger she felt towards him. She had finally gone to confess her uncharitable thoughts to a priest. Father O’Malley had been stern, and had given her much greater penance than Tyne thought she deserved. She left the confessional with equally negative thoughts about the priest, and for a moment she wondered if she should go back and confess that, too. However, only hours after her confession, the anger began to surface again. This time, Tyne told herself she had a right to be angry. After all, was there not such a thing as righteous anger? Had not Jesus been angry with the money changers in the temple? So why should she not be angry with Bryce Baldwin after the way he had treated her friend? But she found no peace from holding the grudge, and she recognized that Morley’s influence was having an impact on her conscience. Jesus had told his disciples they must forgive. Not seven times, he had told Peter, but seventy times seven. Tyne finally realized that she had to forgive Dr. Baldwin.
Fourteenth Hour In silent moments I often mourn the vigor of her hair standing against the wind of an early May morning before the phony freedom comes forth with all its equipment orchestrating the next tune in a celestial dancing hall free-spirited birds accept and embrace it openhearted animals accept and curl up in it free flowing winds receive and espouse it yet the stimulating truth far from acceptance and adoption by caged man conditioned in willful ignorance such as morons deserve and He graces him with freedom as it is His to choose a path other than thorny shortcut of sweetest sin that defines profound absurdity When Ecclesia’s ghetto markets the word and tosses it to fanatics who down its virulence with pleasure in vain understanding comedy of errors and frivolity as I stand like Mistral asking ‘why?’ and the zealot laughs righteous ignorance and still hollers from the depth of his lungs: who cares?
Company of Stars I know it I come from the night yet my soul expands in light to get to the company of stars of the last return the child comes from the infinite becomes time and returns the brightness that showed him the way shaking desires and wrinkles in forgetfulness a dream that slowly also forgets the notes of the voyage that didn’t exist when from the corners of the road suddenly turning realizes it is alone and fleetingly grasps that destiny left him the footprints of no one
He tried to raise up, but they jerked him backward down the step and onto the ground. The clubbing began. He wrapped his arms around his head and tucked into a ball.Two of them straightened his body by pulling his hands and feet while the biggest man alternated kicks with blows from a length of wood. The clubs and boots battered his arms and legs, his torso, his shoulders. The pain was like fire on his skin. The ache went to the center of his bones. They let him go, then knocked him off his feet when he got up, laughing at his contortions when he twisted and thrashed to evade their clubs.Theywere killing him, he thought.Hewas going to die. Suddenly, the big man was on his back and Engine Fred was on top of him with a forearm bearing down on his windpipe. Poodie sat up and saw the other two running down the lane. His head throbbed. Three more hobos came down along the path from the jungle. The man on the ground got an arm free, knocked Engine Fred off balance and was up and running away. He disappeared into the orchard, headed toward the river. Two of the hobos ran after him, but came back shaking their heads. It all happened in the space of a few minutes. The Thorps slept through it, but Engine Fred told Poodie that he heard a scream. Poodie didn’t know that he was capable of screaming. Dan Thorp called the police the next morning. By then, the hobos had hopped a freight. Poodie could not identify the thugs. The bruises on his face and body took weeks to heal. Thorp put a lock on the cabin door. The attack was the worst thing that had happened to Poodie since his mother died. He lived it over in his dreams night after night for months. Years later, he still awakened in fear that the men would come back. Alice Moore looked up to see Poodie James’s face floating just above surface of the checkout desk, a stack of books next to it. She had never seen that face without a smile. She looked at the books; Howard Carter’s The Discovery of the Tomb of Tutankhamen, three books about whales, a collection of de Maupassant stories.
Routine Same path every morning from the train station to the office two blocks of a walk, three newspaper stands and halfway two beggars dark sky-lobe drenching them as they strangely multiply along with the days going by and the index down for another day, gold off the mark, the price of oil dropping what to do with the need for exhausts and fumes for statistics that make you wonder are we truly making progress or careening brakeless down off-ramps to Hell?
Shopping Th e courteous store employee smiling and always flattering showed you two dresses a red one with revealing cleavage and the other, a snow-white that covered your voluptuous breast but falling exquisitely over your body it demanded everyone’s attention the employee kept on flattering you and I signalled to you the red was my first choice and the white falling gracefully on you to the delight of the employee both, I said — the red which complimented your beautiful cleavage and the white that reminded me the first time I conquered your untouched body
Manolis Aligizakis 