Che Fece … Il Gran Rifiuto
To some people, the day comes
when they have to say the great Yes or the great No.
It is almost instantly clear
who has the Yes ready inside him, and by saying it
he lives up to his honour and his conviction.
The one who refuses has no regret. If he were asked again,
he would say the same No. And yet that same
No, the right No, burdens him for the rest of his life.
Wooden Soldiers
Wooden soldiers of the enemy
stood motionless on our borders
rifles not sanded and
bayonets dull while
a full moon split the land
in light and shadow lots
we stayed on guard we kept aiming
what else can one do with bullets
missiles except count
fallen rose petals and
missed kisses other than take a picture
of the orange monarch
as it defines the perimeter
of dreams and the center of love?
excerpt
This was bound to be about the Poodie James story. Sonny’s face
was reddening. That meant they had a problem, but Sonny ran the
newsroom. She would not jump in. She reached for the pile of budget
sheets on her desk and got back to work, envying the editor and
reporter wrestling with a story. My god, would the price of newsprint
ever stabilize? She sank into the pages of figures, enjoying the whir
and the rhythm as she cranked the handle of the adding machine.
“Got a minute?” Winifred looked up at Sonny standing in her
doorway, with Pease a step behind him. “Ned has something you
ought to know about.” She pushed the budget aside.
“Well, Ned,” she said after she had heard Pease’s story, “nice
work, I must say. Poor George Pearson, carrying that around all
these years. But we can’t go with it. Sonny is right, it’s hearsay. The
hobo, Clarkson, thinks he saw Torgerson that night. You say
Clarkson told you Torgerson denied it. This certainly could
explain the mayor’s hatred of Poodie James, but we need the other
man to confirm Pearson’s story. Even then, Torgerson may not
confess. Have you gone back to Pearson to try to get the name?”
“Yes. He’s terrified,” Pease said. He won’t tell me any more. I
think he has visions of prison. He probably doesn’t know the statute
of limitations on assault.“
“More likely he has visions of his reputation and his business
going to hell,” Sonny said. “And he has a point.”
“I don’t know any other way to find out who was with
Torgerson and Pearson that night,” Pease said.
Winifred straightened up and fixed her gaze on the middle distance.
“I think I might,” she said after a few seconds. She pulled a
scrap of paper from a desk drawer, reached for the telephone,
propped the handset on her shoulder, started dialing and shooed
the men out of her office. They watched from Sonny’s desk. After
she hung up, she waved them back in.
“Ned,” she said, “you’re about to meet your first madam.” She
gave him a look of appraisal. “I hope she’s your first.”
SLENDER BIRCH TREES
Dawn passes through the forest and stirs
the slender silvery birch trees
and the seven-layered sun rays play with the maples
while green-gold leaves bathe by the spring.
Among the branches black birds and thrushes hurl
their sweet songs through the light and air
while, you would think, the fir trees must forget
their sadness when they see the sunlit lake.
Oh, dawn, is it you I feel in my viscera
as if your fresh leaves sprouted in my chest
or, you, beautiful eyes, that have hidden
inside you all my joy which you spend here?
And if it’s you, smile at me, smile and my flute
will spread your freshened joy onto the dawn,
and if for it you cut wild roses so unevenly
lean down before me, sweet, and gild the space around.
excerpt
“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.
Eteo started making a list of where the big chunks of Nostra
shares should go, starting with Yannis, Angelo, Spiro and his brother
Michael, Herbert, and then Eteo’s personal accounts, Ariana’s,
Logan’s, and Mitch’s. George and Peter, whom Eteo had used as directors
of his shell companies a couple of times, should also be there…
III
Oh, Goddess, mother of all art
grace this troglodyte with
a path unspoiled by envy
never ploughed by jealousy, since
you can only purge him of ego
you who are consumed in fire
yet like the invincible phoenix
you spring out from the ashes new,
you reemerge with golden wings
with sharpened talons. Come and
grant this poor troglodyte with
the laughter of the perches and
sea anemones; come fill his deck with
the scent of the bitter orange flowers
dancing in his nostrils, with basil,
oregano, parsley, mint, and sorrel
with falling leaves and sunlit mornings
grant him the purpose of enjoying
the bursting thirteen-year-old breast
which dances in midair like an aura
and defines unfurled wonders and dreams.
excerpt
A widower, Dwayne Levine was the recipient of a disabled
worker’s pension. Those who had observed him flinging heavy
engine parts around his yard or stumbling home from the Kingsway
Pub most nights viewed with suspicion his claim of an irreparable
lower disc. Few car club members knew—as my pal O’Donnell did,
living across the alley from Ed’s garage—that Mr. Levine routinely
took the Dodge out after midnight. He also disappeared with it on
those occasions when a member was ill and the car at rest. He was
something of a philanthropist with the housewives, Mr. Levine was,
often loitering in the Shop Eazy parking lot offering free deliveries.
– Boys everywhere love two things, Dwayne Levine philosophized:
girls and cars. His sobs had been reduced to a snivel with a
second complimentary wedge of pie.
– If we had what these young fellas have today, he said, the war
never would have happened!
Back on patrol, Mahoney aired another possibility.
– I say the club’s a front for some kind of gangland activity.
Maybe one of us should go undercover. Whaddya think?
– Spit it all out, Mahoney! barked the senior policeman. The Huns
are scaling the walls!
– One of us — me, I guess — could pose as a potential buyer. I
could ask to see the vehicle up close. Maybe get inside the garage
without a search warrant.
The sergeant feared for the future knowing the likes of Mahoney
represented the next generation of law enforcement, although he
agreed the need for a search warrant was the most damaging invention
since the right to silence.
– People in this part of town, McManus reminded his young partner,
distrust strangers with crewcuts and the physique of a footballer.
Besides, he added, perhaps you hadn’t noticed? The Dodge
isn’t for sale!
McManus allowed himself a moment to despair.
– An Indian shaman said the Creator gave us two eyes, two ears
and one mouth, Mahoney. He reminds you of this so that you might
observe and listen twice as much as you talk.
Both Edges
At both edges of the emotion.
I love you as much as I hate you.
My beloved, hated love!
We don’t meet anymore.
We walk on parallel paths going opposite directions.
For a long time, we have passed the point where we met for the first time.
We can only go around the globe once more, since life is round like the earth.
Until then, each of us alone…
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Proletariat Speaker
He tried to speak; hesitated;
He repeated the same words; he stopped.
That was all, he said, and placed his hands on the table.
His hand, steady and with a clear outline, like
a big trowel. We could trust in the words
he didn’t say and in his hands.
The buzzing light descended outside the room.
Possessions
A dove hides in the laurel branches
the veiled sun regrets
your use of his myth as you pile
ephemeral victories, wounded songs
peace colors the underbelly of the tank
Light unbuttons her coat, smiles
as the intravenous drips heartbeats
hunted breaths inside your sickness
gifting you with engraved axiom
Of all you have amassed, none is yours
Overhanging willow’s
green whisper to the lake
something is, then is not
rose blooms summer in your eyes
All ivory-lit verse succumbs to
Light opening her fan as if to speak
an unction before the last drip of syringe
anoints you an inch of yawning column
space
writes on your skin of vanity
Of all you have gathered, none is yours
Manolis Aligizakis 