Jazz with Ella

Excerpt

Hank stopped before a hammered gold ladle outlined in pearls, which had been owned by Tsar Volodya Feodorovich and was dated 1618. “Wow, dig this jewelled pooper scooper.”
Marty laughed. “Hey, take a look at Lona. She’s practically salivating over that medallion.” The two darted over to join her in front of a glass case.
“What is it?” Hank asked her.
“An encolpion,” Lona said, without tearing her eyes away from the outsized milky-blue sardonyx. “It was made in the 17th century.” Carved on its surface was a depiction of a haloed St. John set within an oval gold filigree border studded with jewels.
“Bet it’s worth a bundle,” Hank said.
Natasha scurried over, too, just in time to catch Hank’s last words. “Treasures of the Armoury are closely guarded,” she announced.
“By whom? Is that your security?” Lona asked innocently. An elderly woman, face lined, kerchief on her head, sat slumped, hands in lap, in a plain wooden chair near the doorway.
“Oh, Natasha, yoo-hoo!” called Linda Appleton. The guide winced as Linda descended on her like a warship sailing into action. “Can you tell me whether photos are permitted in here because David is taking lots of them?” As they moved off to sort out David’s picture-taking proclivities, Hank took the opportunity to corner Lona.
“So what’s an encolpion?” he asked, not expecting an answer.
Lona turned away from the showcase reluctantly. “It’s a medallion worn by bishops, of course. Don’t you know anything?”
Hank couldn’t think of a suitable response so he sloped off, frowning.
★
If they had visited only the Kremlin that first morning, it would have been enough stimulation for the jet-lagged travellers. Jennifer had already used up half a notebook with details of their breakfast, the church, the soldiers’ uniforms and the carriage of Catherine the Great. But instead of stopping for lunch, their tour guide led them out of the Armoury, back into Red Square and up to the longest and most silent of queues that they had seen thus far—for the mandatory visit to Lenin’s tomb.
“Lenin’s memorial has been closed to visitors during renovations,” she told the group. “You are lucky to visit on this one day that it will be open.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

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

Vespers

WIND HOWL

Inukshuk’s fingertips lead
the wolf’s howl
that brings the tempest
vocal anger, bellowing frosty
fangs, harpoons and darkness
target the Husky team, igloo
warmed up by dedication
close touch of ground and sky
bloodthirsty wind ravaging
dwarf willow with arctic hare
under it, hare that blinks his
eyes at awesome power
just above and out of den
benevolent hope for peace
dwelling deep in his psyche

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

Straits and Turns

Excerpt

The Dancer
It was a cloudy April day; one could hardly discern the mountains to the north shore, where two mountain peaks resembling lions stood facing each other as if they were playing a good game of chess without any concern for the people of Vancouver, down by the shores. These two lions were so symbolically attached to the lives of Vancouver citizens that they had named the bridge which connected the Lower Mainland with the North Shore ‘Lion’s Gate Bridge’, the same way the Hellenes had the Lion’s Gate at Mycenae.
Costa was sitting by the window of his one-bedroom suite and kept writing a few lines of the novel he had started a few months earlier, as his eyes suddenly left the paper and gazed at the expanse towards the North Shore, on the other side of the harbour. Indeed, Vancouver was a beautiful city situated on the edge of the land by the Pacific Ocean, on the west side of which the lands of the Orient were located, including Japan, Korea, China, Vietnam, and, to the south, Australia.
He got up to refill his coffee mug and lit a cigarette. It was Tuesday, his day off, so he didn’t have much to do other than write a few lines and perhaps go to Stanley Park for a stroll until his wife came home. His mind ran to the nasty letter he got from his father when he disclosed to them that his girlfriend from Athens had joined him in Vancouver and that they lived together and perhaps they’d get married soon so she could stay permanently; his girlfriend had come with a visitors visa which meant she had to leave in three months unless Costa married her thus making her wife of a legal immigrant.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4250839#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763866

Neo-Hellene Poets: An Anthology of Modern Greek Poetry

SPRING
This the way I see the gardens
A new sadness talks to me tonight in the garden
an almond tree drives its smiling blossom
deep down to the bog’s thick water, and
memory of my youth battles the sick acacia
cold breeze awakes in the broken container
every rose is dead in the flowerpot-coffin
the cypress, endless martyrdom, star bound
uplifts its darkness thirsting for air
and they go, a sorrowful procession the pepper tree
treeline dragging along their green hair.
Two palms raise their arms in desperation
the garden is a melancholic place.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562959

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume III

THE EXILE DIARIES

6th of January
The moon has many
vacant rooms.
Why then?
Because of this.

8th of January
I left everything half done, he said
leave me alone.
Remember:
my hands don’t obey me.
I left everything half done,
have mercy on me.
Animals and chairs
have four legs
I have one.

10th of January
You have to tie your hands on your own.
You do.
The night cuts the bounds.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TLBNFK

Introspection

The Enemy
He not only fought against loneliness and isolation, but against his whole identity, been in constant rupture and orgiastic sectoral emotions that couldn’t settle in his pneumatic completeness, but always took him to the immense void, lurking behind every set concept, that rendered him unable to position one against the other or choose one so he could annul the other; his vision was multifaceted and plethoric opposite the metallic and unbendable silence which destroyed every effort for relaxation and acceptance of the regular, the common-sensical with his pride unable to settle down, as he was not only against the world but against his viscera that demanded the impossible of him

https://draft2digital.com/book/4118210#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763777

Swamped

Excerpt

Reason intervened at last and yanked their wild thoughts back
to reality at almost the same moment. As suddenly as they started,
they both stopped and stepped apart. Frances quickly fixed her clothing
and hair, took a deep breath, and walked out of Eteo’s office. Helena
and Logan noticed her brusque, nervous manner as she passed
them on the way to her office and thought their different thoughts
about what might just have taken place in their boss’s office.
Meanwhile Eteo’s mind ran back to the VSE annual gala the previous
November. Pacific Trends had reserved three tables and invited
its top twenty brokers and the four big wigs of the firm to occupy the
twenty-four seats. Before the dinner, people gathered, mingled,
talked, exchanged ideas, laughed, and gossiped. Eteo always attended
these events—he was always among the ten top producers in his
firm—but that year he had truly paid attention to Frances Woodruff
for the first time. She was also a perennial big producer, and on that
occasion she had been seated with Bradley and the other big wigs.
Eteo was at the adjacent table with seven other brokers. It was shortly
after his divorce, something all his colleagues had known about, and
when Eteo was at the bar getting a drink, Frances came up behind
him, rubbed her beautiful, lush breasts lightly against his back, and
then hugged him from behind. In front of everybody else at the bar
she said, “Hello, handsome Cretan,” her voice resonating with everything
Eteo was tuned to at that moment.
When Eteo told Logan about this startling show of affection the
next day, his son had said, “Be careful, dad, take precautions. She’s
known to sleep around.” Eteo had laughed and assured him he would
be careful, but he had never pursued the affair even though he had
often imagined it. He promised himself that this time he would not
fail to visit Frances soon and light his devotional candle on her altar,
as he put it to himself. Pleased with that image, he turned to his
screen and the behavior of the stocks in his accounts. The performance
was good on every front except Golden Veins, where he remained
exposed without any reasonable exit. He called Richard.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562976

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

Titos Patrikios – Selected Poems

Voices

Don’t trust these wild,
glorifying voices. Perhaps there’s
something rotten they want to hide:
an ulterior motive of self-justification.
However don’t doubt completely
those who unfold their rotten gauzes;
one always needs strength
to be able to show his wounds.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562972

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L1TJNNF

Antony Fostieris – Selected Poems

Avenue
I walk alone in the dark avenue
holding a black cat in my arms
(Perhaps my soul or my fear
perhaps my boredom or my craziness
perhaps this poem
that jumped off the shrubs to my chest
like a wildcat).
Alone and gigantic on the dark avenue
like a hollow bell over the sea of my mind
metaphysical flower of my internal garden
that is leafed in the darkness aimlessly.
I hear the screeching of wheels behind me
afraid to look
perhaps God is on his bicycle having his evening stroll
perhaps the tank of time that flattens me
I feel the words melting in the intense fire
my past days melt inside of me
and I
who loved the deepest beauty of life
saunter alone in the dark road of my hours
smoking the subterranean sorrow of this world
that kills itself because of boredom or craziness
with a big jump in the gorge of this earth —
burning its name in a reverie
incising the veins of its hope
that water with their most precious blood
the leaves of the tree
Desperation.

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

Rendition

Are you riding your agile mustang
dark against dying sun?
Rose sky makes a flag of your
black hair arms raised in
elation as your horse and
you jump across the
ravine How deep
it is holy ancestor
how do you fly?
Enclave of reserve rears up and gallop
of the agile horse creates
its periphery outside the fence in the
fresh air of the plains now fences deeds
break continuity of rolling fields
The bison galloping freedom
before the cattle fence severs plains
from nowhere tunnels
destiny and your concerns

https://www.amazon.com/dp/098107359X