The Extra You were always there although times you weren’t film created by someone else’s hand and I a passing extra I have nothing else to love descendant of utopia with my short life and without baggage I loved the fleeting moment the imperceptible undulation of dawn perhaps you have been there all the time tied to the escape the secret of truth, the end of the mistake emigrates crossing parallel roads when I sailed to the Colchis of the sky shaking off a border I escaped unseen you showed me siren of the blood on the many lives, I must march pushed by the force of the wave to hear the true history of the sea.
“I’ll talk because the time for our farewells is near,” I said, “and I don’t want us parting like this.” “Try me.” He turned to look at the ship. His aftershave aroma of lavender and storax, mixed with our sweat, filled my nostrils and sharpened my senses. Watching him reminded me of my own looks, a sort of discovery. Over the years, although he was four years older, Bartolomé and I had become more alike, despite the inequality in weight and his hooked nose. The main difference was the ripple of his strong muscles visible under his shirt. Sometimes it was like watching the movements of a powerful horse. When I had come to board the ship, we were shocked to see each other again. We always wrote and knew everything about the other, but six years had passed since our last encounter. He took me by the shoulders and looked me over from head to toe. Apparently satisfied with my growing into manhood, he patted me on the shoulder and grabbed my tonsure, shaking me softly before squashing me in a bear hug. Now we would soon be taking our leave of each other, and only God knew when we would be reunited. I realized I was staring at him and turned to face the sea. Illuminated by the rising moon, the ship swayed, two lanterns glowing on the castle decks. I watched the white spume of the waves breaking, their hissing claim on the beach. The breeze carried the voices of the men still sitting around the fire. “Why the hell did you flog yourself?” Bartolomé asked. “To purify my heart.” “Purify your heart? Salvador, you haven’t done a bad thing in your life!” I snorted, shaking my head and reaching back to pull at my habit and detach it from my wounds. “I beat him,” I said. “I beat Pánfilo. He was having his way with a girl. She wanted to resist. I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and before I knew it I was beating him up. I didn’t mean to.”
Circular letter Körlevél Don’t answer, – the circular letter is knocking now, I’ll put empty words to work for a buck
the blood plows me through with a hot plow, and in bad ears the sound gets stuck. My red star face breaks down into a lesson,
now the big secret is budding to remain my holy message penetrates to the bone heaven, and my dead heart will love again. I carved the mirage from poems’ dream space, you act on the edges of the new laws’ way,
gallop after it then practice the race
you, too can succeed one day. The thought struck me a few times,
I put on a deadly mask, how I look, like a yellowed vagrant skeleton, it lies, it kicked the threshold with half a foot. Some lines melt into the minute, my pocket is loaded with bold pulse,
the title invites you to take a walk in it, which I sprinkle with noble gold dust. It was a colorful drama that kept me in good condition, pagan December brings a mission, the voice squealed in my waistline, and my circular also reached the finish line for the seventh time.
Catherine Unforgiving invincible sparkle dances inside your rose with its heavy, sinful petals and a loathing desire still lurks behind the undulating tempest nothing is left but the husk of your last wish and a crying forlornness
He walked to the basement where he found Dylan still sitting on his cot, cigarette in hand, the smell of smoke all over the stagnant air of the room which Anton smelled and coughed. The old man tried to stand up but he found his legs were weak and trembling. He sat again on the cot. “Good morning Dylan,” Anton greeted him “Are you not okay? Did you sleep well?” The old man looked at him with obvious tenderness which was reflected in his voice, “I’m not that frisky today, and yes I slept here, didn’t feel like walking back home.” “I could have driven you home,” Anton pointed. “No worries; I stay here most of the times especially in the winter months when darkness comes early I just don’t bother walking home.” “I see; it’s all good then, but let me start the machines with yesterday’s leftover clothes…” “Good, very good,” Dylan said and didn’t make any effort to get up from his cot. Anton took care of the first business and when all the leftover clothes were in the machines which had started their humming noise, he remarked, “Do we have to go and collect today’s clothes?” “Yes, we shall do this in a while, after the first recess when the kids get to the class. The maids will have gathered them by then.” Time passed. The children were guided to the eating area where they had their porridge then they were led to their classes. Anton and Dylan went back to the laundry where they worked the machines; they also chit chatted until the first recess was called. The kids walked out of the mausoleum to the schoolyard. The leaves of the huge oaks and wild chestnut
A beam of moonlight reached through the open drapes at the window, giving a gentle glow to the room. Tyne felt no closer to sleep than she had when they had come to bed two hours earlier. “Can’t sleep, hon?” Morley put his arm over her and brushed her tousled hair with his lips. “No, and I suspect you can’t, either.” Tyne laid her cheek against his stubbled one. “Morley, what’s going to happen to them?” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know, hon. I wish I did.” “Isn’t there anything we can do?” She knew that, if anyone could give her an answer, her husband could. Morley stirred and propped himself on one elbow to look down at her. In the faint light, she could see his eyes, now wide open. “Are you thinking we should try to keep them here?” She took a deep breath. “It has crossed my mind. But even if we get Corky’s permission, it would be a big step, wouldn’t it?” Morley lay down again, and for several moments looked up at the shadowed ceiling without speaking. Finally, he whispered, “A huge step, Tyne. It would be a huge step.” Suddenly, she giggled. “I once told you I wanted to live on a farm with the man I love, and raise vegetables and lots of children. This would be a good start.” “But not quite as soon as you thought.” There was laughter in Morley’s voice now. But after a minute, he said seriously, “Anyway, it all depends on Corky, doesn’t it?” And partly on Ruby, Tyne thought. She had not told Morley what Ruby had said in Matron’s office, and she had no intention of telling him. But she knew in her heart that, if they applied for custody of the children, the biggest opposition would not come from their father, but from their Aunt Ruby. Because Ruby could not abide ‘Bible thumpers’.
In fact, Joel remembered his mother had told him the story in one of her few but precious letters he received shortly before she passed away. From time to time, Joel’s dad would have to find temporary work off of the ranch to make a go of things. It was always tough to squeeze a living out of the Circle H and the family had to continually live hand-to-mouth from the meager checks his dad would mail them. One time, as the story goes, his dad had been owed some money for work he did on an oil drilling crew down in the panhandle—the wells came up dry and so did the paychecks. Joel could remember his mother’s letter saying that after being away for a month or so, his dad showed up late one day and left the next. Apparently, he had come home for his rifle. It was a long drive for weaponry, but I guess if you are going to take the law into your own hands you may as well use your own weapon. His mother had said that it was nearly two weeks before his dad returned, and this time he had two fillies with him—one was a flashy little palomino and the other was a petite bay. That must be her, Joel thought. The flashy little palomino grew up to become the old blonde mare. The next morning Joel and Harry were ready to roll. And that was exactly what they were doing; rolling down the highway leading into the thriving mini-metropolis of Great Falls. It was still early when they arrived at the livestock yards. The sale wasn’t scheduled to begin until noon. Given that it was so early in the morning, Joel pulled the old half-ton over to the side of the parking lot at the stockyard and backed the trailer next to the corrals. A quick reconnoiter confirmed that there was no one around so Joel and Harry proceeded to catch a few z’s as they waited for the office to open. “What do you mean?” Joel yelled. He had been woken from his sleep as the first trucks started to pull into the parking lot, and after a few stretches,
“Okay.” He glanced back at his cooling sauce. “Are you fine with penne, or would you prefer spaghetti?” “Penne, please.” “Penne it is.” Eteo smiled at his son, who was already heading upstairs again. “Dinner at seven, okay?” “Yes, Dad,” Alex called from the floor above. Eteo went back to his chair. He absentmindedly scanned the space around him, registering the familiar, steady sounds of the house. Normally they were like the heartbeats of a healthy person, regular, unhurried, relaxed, almost unnoticeable, but now, with Eteo’s attention focused on them, they began to sound more like loudspeakers in a plaza. The map of the earth on the far wall, made of sheets of copper, was still as shiny as it had been earlier today and the fireplace sat ready to be lit whenever he wanted that cozy ambience. He thought about what he needed to do to organize those he wanted to get involved in Herb’s deal. It looked like a winner, and Eteo knew that when you have a winner you take care of clients who haven’t done so well lately. Spiro and Michael, and Angelo too. They had lost a bit of money on Eteo’s last recommendation, so he owed them a piece of the action on this one. He also had to work in some of his personal accounts. Yanni would buy anything Eteo recommended, as would Nick the hairdresser and Kenny Wong and his friends. The market, Eteo had learned, was a beast that no one knew how to tame. Investing in penny stocks wasn’t much different than betting on horses, except that at least you could look at the horses and, if you knew horses, separate the strong ones from the weak. Penny stocks all looked alike, yet each ran on its own terms and no two ever got exactly the same results. All the more reason why when you get a loser for a client you better find a winner soon. Yes, he had to include Spiro and Michael and Angelo in this one. Logan arrived home while Eteo was still on the phone organizing his first three clients and explaining to them what he had in mind for the next few days. Logan, who stood almost six feet, smiled down at him. He knew who his father was talking to and exactly what he was doing. Apart from his height, Logan looked a lot like his father.
Manolis Aligizakis 