Category: Uncategorized

Swamped

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

However, Mario wanted to have a bigger
piece of the pie than his partners, so he made a side deal with a shady
promoter and the trustee released all the stock to the new purchaser
on Mario’s instructions alone, and without the deposit that was customary
in any financial deal. The promoter ended up running around
downtown Vancouver with a briefcase full of certificates that didn’t
belong to him, and after he wasted a few certs on some of the scummiest
people in VSE circles without being able to raise the funds to
pay for the shell company, he went back to Mario and together they
concocted a story that the certs had gotten lost.
One of the scumbags the promoter dealt with was Jimmy Hall, a
character Eteo had met once, who was probably the shadiest promoter
in Vancouver. Eteo remembered how this man had called him
son when they met like some kind of mafia don, and he had not been
too surprised when Hall was later gunned down for unknown reasons,
like another famously scummy Vancouver promoter, Bobby
Hanover, who was also killed a few years later.
When, after this debacle, the three partners met to discuss their
next move with Richard Walden, another investor on Robert’s side,
and coincidentally the current president of Golden Veins, Walden had
been furious and threatened to go to the authorities. Eteo had argued
for keeping VSE officials away from the issue and instead going after
the trustee who had “lost” the certs. Mario had vehemently objected,
not surprisingly, since he was the one who had instructed her to release
the stock to the promoter in the first place, though Eteo only
discovered this later. Walden had continued to insist they go to the
VSE and report their share certificates stolen and had almost persuaded
the others until Eteo asked, “What do you expect the VSE to
do? Issue new certs to us?”
Nobody knew what to say to this.
“Look,” Eteo explained, “there’s a way to get all our shares back,
though it will take time.”
“Okay, how?” Walden demanded.
“We declare the certs lost one at a time and issue a new cert each
time, but we can only do this gradually, one cert at a time.”

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

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

bristles of his moustache into neat, serried rows. Once, when he had been due for a Russian department evaluation involving an interview with Chairman Hoefert, he had arrived early at his department head’s office. The door was open and there was no one about so he had wedged himself into a seat in the crowded study, his legs straddling boxes of books and papers, to await Hoefert’s return. A file lay open on the desk and without too much twisting of his neck he could see that it was his own confidential personnel file. Leaning out from the chair at an acute angle, he could even read the text upside down and he quickly did so without any attack of conscience. The chairman had written a number of congratulatory things, Chopyk was gratified to see. He could read that he was a stellar professor, thorough and devoted to his publishing schedule. True. It was a bit lacklustre on the subject of his teaching abilities, but certainly adequate. But there, at the bottom of the report, was what Chopyk considered to be a damning bit of character assassination. Neatly penned in the director’s handwriting were the words: “Chopyk’s flaw is vanity.” The subsequent interview was more tense than usual.
Ever since that day Chopyk had pondered this revelation, especially when he glanced at his trim appearance in a mirror. Later, he realized that Hoefert was not talking about superficial vanity, though he was deemed a snappy dresser; instead, Hoefert had locked onto a deeper quality: Chopyk’s self-absorption. He took magnificent pleasure in his successes, however small. He took a positive delight in outsmarting Professor Hoefert, preferably in front of colleagues at the Learned Societies conference. But it was only friendly rivalry, Chopyk told himself. Where was the harm? It was the word “flaw” that niggled. He didn’t like to admit to flaws; didn’t think he had any. But there were moments—like today with Lona Rabinovitch—that he would consider his vanity to be a genuine weakness. She was playing him, flattering him—no doubt about it. And he had fallen for it.
She had come up to him in the dining room after lunch, when the others had drifted away, to ask his clarification on a small question of verb tense. Somehow, within minutes, she had managed to turn the conversation to their departure from the Soviet Union, and she complained that she was running out of room in her luggage. Before he knew it he had gallantly agreed to pack some of her “valuable gifts and souvenirs” in his own luggage. She was quite appealing, gazing up at him softly with those large green eyes—he couldn’t refuse. She was hypnotic. Dammit.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Poodie James

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“Seen Ray Thompson?” the man said.
“No, I expect he’ll be back in a few minutes. Anything I can do
for you? I’m Pete Torgerson.”
The ranger gave no sign of recognition.
“I have a message for Ray. Got a call up at the station. Only
phone around here. Know where I might find him.”
“He’s over at the dining hall.”
“Thanks,” the man said, and left.
Torgerson sat on Thompson’s bunk and leafed through a tattered
copy of Life, trying not to think about the boy. Five minutes
later, Thompson was back.
“Pete, I have a problem. The ranger station got a call from my
neighbor in town. My wife had an appendicitis attack. She’s in the
hospital. I’ve got to go down there right now. It’s going to burst if
they don’t operate. I want to be there when she comes out of the
anesthetic. There’s no one up here but kid counselors, and I can’t
leave one of them in charge. I hate to ask because I know how
much you’ve got on your hands, but….”
“You don’t have to ask. Go on. Just stop by the garage. Tell
them what’s happening, and have them give Sue-Anne a call.”
“If I can’t get back up here tommorow, I’ll have the Y send
somebody to take over. Noon, at the latest.”
“Run along, Ray.”
“Razor and all that stuff above the sink. Sorry I don’t have pajamas
for you. Don’t use ’em. Lights out at ten o’clock. You might
have to quiet ’em down.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine. Scoot.”
In the log dining hall, Torgerson lined up with the children and
the counselors to shuffle past the steam table. A solemn woman in
a hair net and a white uniform ladled chipped beef on toast and
canned peas onto their trays. He thought of the army. After dinner,
he wandered over to a corner of the hall where a counselor sat
at an old upright piano playing a sonata he recognized but could
not name. She looked fifteen, maybe sixteen, he thought, and from
the back a little like Sue-Anne. When he came home, his wife was

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08W7SHCMV

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Today and Just Before
Today and just before light covers the sky
I hear bells chiming faraway in the city.
Bells that I hear as if they slowly spread evil
and solemnly stir the remaining darkness.
Where have I left my sweet childish heart?
In what era, in which bell’s chiming I’ve tied it?
In what era and today I’ve kneeled
on my weak knees and prayed?
A prayer to beauty, to the forgotten mother
to ignorance, the smile, the voice of a dream
listening to the saddened chime of the bell
today that talks of the untimely death.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763459

Marginal

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Caricature
A bad imitation of a human,
faceless, like the company
he served, arrived and
hiding the packaged freedom
silently in his pockets
deaf freedom choked
from the excess lard he had
consumed in their last feast
sorrowful leftover of our old
glory and I, saddened by
the momentary loss of logic
leaned and smelled the tiny
jasmine flower, letting its
aroma fills my nostrils
emotional that I had become
to the point of tears: then,
it wasn’t far away anymore,
it wasn’t impossible. It was
here on the dusty sidewalk
here it was the Heavens
into which I surely entered

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771715987

Antony Fostieris – Selected Poems

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Treason
However, this aged skin
this desert,
the wilted days
yet this cracked voice
the desertion
a betrayed issue
total defeat.

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

He Rode Tall

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

…couldn’t even see where they had got through the fence. It must
have taken some interesting gymnastics for these four-legged wonders
to maneuver through a three-wire fence without ripping it
down, but, sure enough, here they were. Joel even found himself
wondering if they could have jumped the fence. He had seen the
deer do it. But as Joel compared the anatomy of a cow to that of a
deer, he chuckled at himself in a way that made his horse wonder
what was happening. To the horse, this expression of human
emotion was something new about Joel.
The sorrel gelding waited to see what the rider who sat on him
would decide to do.
Sizing up the situation, Joel realized that if he didn’t get these
three heifers back to where they belong, some of their friends
would want to join them for the party. And judging from how
lean the pickings were on the other side of the fence and the look
of the visiting heifers, Joel didn’t think it would be long before
they would devour the grass in his pasture, which is supposed to
feed his horses. And if the advance party of three were joined by
their friends, it wouldn’t take long before Joel had a serious problem—
two- or three-hundred head of cattle would make mincemeat
out of this pasture.
After contemplating the possibilities, Joel decided that his best
bet would be to open the gate that was about 300 yards down the
fence line and try to push the three heifers back to their own pasture.
He was hoping that the gate was far enough from the herd
so that the herd wouldn’t all rush through the opening into his
pasture. This was going to be very tricky.
Slowly, he moved the sorrel gelding down the fence line to the
gate. The gelding was carefully watching the cows and they certainly
weren’t spooking him. Reaching the gate, Joel undid the
rope, and stepping back, he set the fence wire and poles down to
the side. Sliding back into the saddle, Joel pointed the gelding
back to the three heifers that were grazing, unconcerned with the
approaching rider and horse, or anticipating their eviction.
Gently, cautiously, and slowly, Joel and the sorrel gelding pushed
https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

The captain merely laughed. Finten continued, “I should have known your words
were false. I will not submit to be collared like a dog. I am a priest of God.”
“Yes, you sound like one.” The Norse leader stepped into the pen and came face
to face with the fiery Finten. “I am Hjálmar, Captain Hjálmar.” Taller by far and
stripped to the waist, he lunged at Father Finten, pinning the scruffy priest to the
deck. The captain grinned at his victim and spoke almost in a whisper. “You are
about to have your first bath and trim, my hairy friend, and I am delighted to be your
bather. Washing priests is my specialty.”
The Norse crew gathered to watch the sport. They shouted encouragement to
their captain like rowdy boys at a schoolyard fight. Finten struggled, kicked and
punched. Momentarily, he gained his freedom, but was tackled and held down by
the Norse captain once more.
“Never will you force such an unholy and unchristian rite on me. Bathing is immoral
and evil and unnatural,” Finten howled. He thrashed at his opponent, but was
no match for the powerful wrestler.
Captain Hjálmar stripped him of his cassock and sat sideways on his heaving
chest. He was forceful but almost gentle at the same time, addressing his remarks to
Finten in a calm, steady voice. “No different than any other man I have known. You
do have all your parts I see. I had been told that priests of Rome were snipped of
their manly marvels to keep them from a woman’s bed.”
“I’ll snip you of your manly marvels, you boastful pagan beast,” Finten yelled.
He struggled to cover his privates but two Norse crewmen held his arms to the deck
while another two grabbed his feet. Finten squirmed wildly from side to side while
Hjálmar snapped the cord of twine that held a copper Celtic cross around the priest’s
neck. The captain flung the metal object in an arc to the white-capped waves. “By
Aegir, ruler of the seas, no thrall of mine will spread his fleas and stench of sweat and
piss and shit upon my ship.” Then, he tossed the priest’s garment to his lieutenant,
“Here, Bjorn, boil this nest of fleas for rags while I rid this Roman monk of sanctimonious
stink. Phew.” Dipping into the sudsy bucket of salt water, Hjálmar lathered
a sheepskin cloth with a block of bright yellow soap and proceeded to scrub Finten’s
heaving torso, still talking to him in the same steady tone.
“Ah, you should be bathed by a woman. Then you would no longer wish to be
so full of vermin. We men of the Danelaw, bathe, comb our hair, and change our
woollen garments on every Laugerdag, which you call Saturday. We scrub no matter
the season, even when we are absent months on end from wives and sweethearts.”
The Norseman looked around to his crew who were enjoying such sport on a chilly
morning at sea. “Ah, yes. Our wives and sweethearts – may they never meet.”
“I will not submit to pagan practices,” the struggling monk bellowed.
“You, my friend, were created by the god Ríg to be a servant to all. And so you will
be, and work among my other thralls. Only those in mourning need not wash. It is
said that Odinn, king of the gods, left his hair unwashed as a sign of mourning for
the death of his son, Baldr. You are neither a god nor in mourning.”
“Of course I’m in mourning. I’m in mourning for dead friends and lost liberty.”
Father Finten’s quick reply did nothing to change his situation. Alternating between
the sheepskin cloth and a brush of pig bristles, Hjálmar scrubbed the struggling
monk from head to toe.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

Impulses

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Timer
Lamp on the side table
timer switches at the perfect
hour every dusk
the room shadows
each night the lamp glows
you bask in
the grand house all its sturdy
windows and when you think
escape automation clicks
like clock works
the sting of your guilt
déjà vu and you prod
eternity or
where your grace leads you

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073565

Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

And gypsies came who built
their lives like their houses
86
founded on horse carriages
rolling along and pulled by cows that
have something of the elephants
and of the travelling ships and
as they groan and echo passing
over rough paths and streets
when suddenly houses stop
with the panting gypsies close
behind they resemble as
something holy and great
like Epitaphios or the Holy Arc.
Here are the Turkish gypsies
who sleep in tents, the pure
race. They always travel in
plains and in deserts the ones
with their invincible souls
their straight and erect bodies
and the wildness of their souls
shines in their lighted eyes
the soft and the powerful as
if made of steel and sting;
they’re joyous in the snow
and in the rain, in the sunshine
they celebrate the best festival
on bare earth as Hades finds
the man naked and chokes him
to death in the ripped tent whipped
by the wind that charges and
wilts men as if they’re flowers.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D3LP7NW6