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Arrows

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excerpt

voices when the breeze allowed it. Looking for so long into the
distance, we were completely unprepared to turn and see five men
behind us.
Even before we could rise from our crouching positions, five big
warriors, scowling fiercely, materialized from the bushes, pointing
arrows at us.
“I looks like you may never get to know Guacaipuro, my friend,”
said Tamanoa.
I could not imagine ever responding with such aplomb. This was
his way of retaining control of himself, not showing fear. He was
showing me what to do, how to face death. Or to avoid it. I
mimicked Tamanoa’s stalwart behaviour, literally at ever step, as
the Indians led us into the village; two ahead of us and three behind.
In the days and months that followed, our captors would assume
Tamanoa was my servant because he was a half-breed, and yet it
would be Tamanoa’s ability to interpret their speech and their
behaviour that would keep me alive. Without Tamanoa, I would
never have been able to develop the language skills that enabled me
to talk to Apacuana, and I would never have survived to tell this
tale. But it was God’s will, or the way of Mareoka, to make everyone
assume I was the leader.

I was as lost as I have ever been as we marched to the village at
arrow point. People gathered on the trail and around an open space
dominated by the imposing figure of a man who could only be
Guacaipuro. The sun shone directly above our heads, gleaming
silver on the silky raven-black hair of Guacaipuro, whose face was a
mask chiselled in stone. His eyes were ominous black slits. The
hollows of his cheeks were elongated shadows.
He stood immobile, his chest heaved, and deep lines creased his
brow. The corners of his mouth were pulled down in outright
loathing. He held a spear, the butt resting on the ground.
As we approached, he held the spear almost to my chest, glaring

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Swamped

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excerpt

Eteo planned to spend the weekend with Ariana, including the
nights. In fact, he wanted to take Ariana to Harrison Hot Springs for
the weekend. It would be the first time, except for some business
trips, that he had slept outside the house since the divorce. He
arranged with Jonathan what to do about their food, left some money
for them, and after Alex and Jonathan told him he could go and they
would be fine for two days, he decided to proceed with his plans.
Then he talked to Ariana again. She was elated that they could get
away for two nights.
He drove to the Ambleside, went upstairs to Ariana’s apartment,
and found her almost ready for their first weekend together. A few
minutes later he was carrying her small overnight bag down to his car.
“Where are you taking me, my love?” she asked him
“I’m not telling you. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I did, would it?
Ariana smiled and kissed him. “Okay then, I’m all yours; take
me anywhere you wish,” she said, then added, “and do anything you
wish with me,” her voice husky with desire.
In silence, he drove east along Lougheed Highway, passing Port
Coquitlam then Mission, through the farmlands of the Fraser Valley
to Harrison Hot Springs in Agassiz. The parking valet at the big hotel
by the lake where they stopped took his car and the doorman carried
their bags to their room, beautifully decorated with fresh flowers and
a bottle of wine with some finger food already laid out on the table.
Ariana smiled and gave him a look of approval. She knew him well
enough by now to know he was man of good taste who enjoyed going
out of his way to make her feel great.
Ariana was eager to show Eteo in her most personal way how
much she appreciated him, and they were soon making passionate
love. Only afterwards did they sample the wine and food and then
spent some time walking along the lakeshore in the evening and
again the next morning. The next evening they enjoyed a candlelight
dinner in the Copper Room, the special hotel restaurant where the
Jones Boys played hits of the sixties, seventies, and eighties.
At one point while they were dancing in the Copper Room after
dinner, Ariana looked into Eteo’s eyes and said, “I’m falling in love
with, Eteo Armen, and though I don’t want to make you …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Ken Kirkby – Warrior Painter

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she was pregnant with his child when she died.
Jessica came into his life a number of years later when he was
working in northern British Columbia. Again, a woman on the fringes of
acceptable society, she was wise, beautiful, self-reliant, and she loved him
unconditionally. Ken met her through her brother, Patrick, with whom he
worked. They were First Nations people filled with the pride of their early
ancestors. There is a saying that home is where the heart is, and Ken found
Jessica’s cozy log house in the ranch country the closest thing to a home that
he’d ever experienced. The lovers spent blissful months together planning
their wedding. It was one of the happiest times in his life.
The perverse hand of Fate nearly destroyed him when Jessica and
Patrick were killed in a horrific accident on icy, winter roads. The pickup
was still burning when Ken arrived at the scene, his last hope extinguished
when, through the shattered window of the burnt out vehicle he recognized
the sleeve of Jessica’s buckskin coat, the mate to the one he was wearing.
The traumatic image of the fiery wreck haunted his dreams long after, and
virtually drove him into the Arctic seeking some form of peace.
On his return from the years spent in the Arctic, Ken entered into
a comfortable relationship with Helen. She was a settled, intelligent
schoolteacher who appeared to support his drive to re-establish himself
as a painter within the Vancouver art scene. He was not the first man to
marry under the mistaken belief that his woman accepted his stipulation
that fatherhood was not in his plans. Ken clearly understood the depth of
his own drive and focus and believed that, consumed as he was to right the
wrong that had been done to the Inuit, he had nothing left over to give a
child. But he had not reckoned with the determination of a woman bent on
motherhood.
When Michael was born, Ken was immediately captivated by this tiny
bundle of human life. Torn between wonderment and reality, he knew that
his kind of obsessive dedication to the northern problem left little time for
the sort of nurturing his own father had given him. What was done could
never be undone however, and Ken did his best to provide for his family
both financially and emotionally. Things proceeded relatively smoothly for
a handful of years, although Ken never quite trusted Helen in the same way
he had before the unexpected pregnancy. Happily though, over the years, he
and Michael crafted a wonderfully strong, mutual love and the young man…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CB8W4CG

Tasos Livaditis – Selected Poems

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SOMETIMES during the night I wake up Ι light the lamp and
stand there opposite the foreigner; at daybreak of course nothing is
left but an imperceptible mark that one could take as a drop of
wax while it was, perhaps, the unforgivable which no one could see;
only the old forgotten organ was heard in the basement, oh God,
I should have long ago buried all the mementos because even
the inescapable commences as simple as that; yet at night I sat
by the stairs and waited for the one who could defeat the silent
world and could take the big needle of cross-stitching I held,
like women who, lost in their embroidery while the others
were asleep, have already followed the one who forever walks
ahead of us.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087367R7C

Katerina Anghelaki Rooke – Selected Poems

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III
You showed me the landscape
and it was green and sweet.
It was a green hill
and a green tree
and behind them another hill
and another tree.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763521

Chthonian Bodies

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Sophister
I left it to the mercy of the wind
to the arms of sunlight
benevolent and radiant laughter
of grass blades under the pressure
of grand master begging it
to forever dance for the soul of my kin and
just inside my elder’s
tepee where the age old wisdom
gathers momentum passing words
of comfort to the ears of youngsters
not ready yet for initiation
into the deliverance of manhood
they are as they should be
my children and their dreams
will experience reality in the arms
of their first beloved woman

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763424

Entropy

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Anarchy of the Incidentals
We come from an unapproachable antiquity
we are ourselves and something else
from the before and the after
deeply alone in the indefinition
deprived of the dawning of light
it seems we have exhausted the possibility
of rebirth
time emerged from within itself
when the anarchy of randomness
defined the harmony between
life and death
the turns of the road promise
narratives of the unforeseen
exclusive meaning for each
who believe in daydreams
finish the evil in ecstasy
a few spots of innocence
distanced souls
shine
remaining in the dream
wandering additions
of the fragmented brilliance

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPCRLJC6

The Unquiet Land

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excerpt

“Damn!” Finn said and rose slowly to retrieve the bottle that had come to rest against the granite hearth. “Damn, damn, damn,” he repeated, lifting the bottle to the light to see what was left. “Did you ever witness such a clumsy old fool?”
After a moment’s awkward silence, Padraig said, “You were talking about Caitlin.”
“I was, wasn’t I?”
“Is there really something between her and Michael?”
“I think so. It’s usually called love.”
Padraig failed to stop the thought before its shadow fell across his face. “She’s in love with Michael?”
“She appears to be. And I think she could do worse. Michael’s a good, steady, dependable lad. A farmer to the depth of his marrow. He’s one of the Carricks from Kildarragh. Thomas Carrick’s son, but as different from Thomas as a ripple from a tidal wave.”
“I’m glad.”
Finn smiled. “You’ve heard the stories about Thomas Carrick then.”
“As much as I want to hear.”
“You’ll hear worse, Padraig,” Finn said. “You’ll have to learn to accept life and people as somewhat lower creations than the idealized figments of your Christian imagination. But have no fears about Michael being Thomas Carrick’s son. I took Michael in on the recommendation of Seamus Slattery, Michael’s uncle. And it has worked out well for everyone: for Michael himself, for me, for Caitlin. Even for Jinnie who loves him like a son. As he appears about to become. He sneaks in here on his midnight adventures and thinks we don’t know.”
“On his what?” Padraig asked with surprise.
Finn smiled. His eyes had the faraway look of one who had dived deeply into the river of memory and was swimming joyfully. “His midnight adventures,” he repeated slowly, his attention not fully on what he was saying. “When he thinks I’m sound asleep he creeps like a thief to Caitlin’s room. Lusty young stallion.”
Padraig’s disbelief was genuine that a father could allow such conduct. But none of his prepared texts on the subject seemed appropriate to this man who had no idea of morality. How could he begin to reach through to the soul of one who denied God, despised chastity, and did not know the meaning of sin and salvation. “We change the soul, if we change it at all,” Clifford Hamilton had said that evening, “with words, thoughts, ideas…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Antony Fostieris – Selected Poems

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With Tender Wings
The devil flies with tender wings
he wears the fluffy coat of a bat
thickens the air around him
and walks on it.
“He will perform his little miracles again”
I think,
but he stops my hand
he lies on the papers again and pours out
all his black self
He empties all his ink
creating many stigmata.
When I investigate it
I find a dark hole
and sobbing Paganini at the far end.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763653

Vespers

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Archipelago
Under icy archipelago, krill
dance en masse like a curtain pleat
to the chorus of arctic
current searching for
direction and they mingle
and they grow just enough
to stay trapped inside
the baleen of leviathan
with teary eyes, with big
a heart keeping ahead of the
ocean in undulating breath
and inhospitable depth as
harsh temperature of winter
interlocks with short summer and perfect

balance of sunlight

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763033