Spruce Dryads playing their rhythmic flutes next to the towering giant reaching the heavens: the tallest spruce, the highest I had seen, towering spruce stood silently paying attention to cars speeding by it on the highway to people unaware of the spruce’s might oblivious of its words, attention, silence, contemplative mind unaware of its mighty ambition to reach the ineffable while passing man cared for his appearance on this earth oblivious of his purpose opposite the trees are clearly defined in their bark incised in its rings, in its time, eons, moments, indisputable witness of time’s passing unlike speeding cars with people unaware of the purpose people care about their appearance in life day or night, they are asleep purpose in absence, ego in overdrive.
Bartolomé let him go, patting him on the shoulder. Pánfilo bent over and coughed, hand on his throat as though choked instead of rattled. I crouched beside Antonio and tilted the flask. I wasn’t sure how much would suffice; a few drops would have to do as more would kill him. I concentrated on balancing against the movements of the ship and tilted the flask just a little more until a few droplets fell into Antonio’s limp mouth. The potion squirted between Antonio’s lips. He coughed from the bitterness and tried to sit up. I gasped and tried to clean the excess with a rag, but it was too late. Antonio had swallowed it all. I uttered unconfessable commentaries under my breath and glanced at Bartolomé. He looked at me, and I shrugged helplessly. We took our positions in silence. I buried my nostrils in my armpit while positioning my hands on Antonio’s chest, bewildered by the stench. Benjamin knelt beside me, arms straight down, squashing Antonio’s good leg. I was sweating, we all were. Bartolomé produced a leather bundle and carefully spread it on the floor, revealing a number of surgical instruments. Rag strips were neatly folded in a small pocket. In the monastery, Fray Bernardo had taught us to cure wounds. A few times we saved the life of one of the animals by cutting an infected limb. We had always proceeded faster when we placed a board underneath for support. I found one and put it under the leg with a subtle nod to my brother. He acknowledged with the sharp knife, ready to cut. “Lord, have mercy.” I said. In the uncertain light given off by two candles, Bartolomé crossed himself and began cutting with long swift movements. Antonio’s drunkenness and my potion failed to stop him from becoming a struggling, swearing beast, but finally he passed out when Bartolomé began sawing the bone. We loosened our grip. Pánfilo gawked at the wound. Better he keep his mouth shut for, whenever he talked or breathed, the foul odor of his remaining teeth made me want to vomit.
A key turned in the lock of the front door and a moment later Alexander walked into the kitchen. He came up close to his father and kissed him on the cheek. “Hi, Dad.” “Hi. Alex. How was the day?” “It was good. I signed up for the choir.” “The choir?” Eteo’s voice did not hide his surprise. “Why? You don’t want me to be in the school choir?” “No, I didn’t mean that. You can be a member of the choir if you wish, of course. I’m just surprised since you never mentioned it before.” “All good, Dad. What’s for dinner?” “Penne with minced turkey and a big salad.” Eteo smiled at him. “That’s great, Dad, your pasta is always very tasty,” Alexander said and disappeared upstairs to his room. Eteo continued with his cooking for a few more minutes until his mobile phone rang again. Picking up, Eteo heard Herb’s excited voice blurting out, with no introduction, “It’s done, they shook hands.” He sounded almost out of breath. “What do you mean, Herbert?” His long-time client caught his breath and explained that the two groups he had mentioned in the morning had agreed on acquisition of the new asset. Tomorrow they would go to the attorneys to sign the letter of intent and in no more than a week the formal agreement would be in place.
Dawn A man crosses the river drops on sleds flow and vanish tomorrow’s season doesn’t care about existence it marches and dreams, it doesn’t remember its body, the flashing ecstasy reflection of flow crosses the emptiness of the void the web of nebulas the abyss of the night hides in his hair the timeless paths beyond the Vega of Aldebaran omen of Odysseus part of totality marches into the arcanum of fleshless reality the eternal illusion of light and life will know that the flow is nothing but only the self-immolation of all that passed.
The land, the buildings, all of that old equipment, and the horses. Heck, you wouldn’t even have to unpack. I’ll write you the check right now and you can cash it at the bank on the way through town as you head back to the city.” Joel could have very easily taken the money. Heaven knows he could use it. He really didn’t have anything that was stopping him from accepting the offer. And 60,000 dollars could go a long ways in Costa Rica, or wherever he ended up. Maybe he could even buy a nice little bar on a sandy beach to keep himself occupied. He could see himself passing out cool cervezas and renting out sea-doos to tourists. Or maybe just passing out. That sure would have been his preferred behavior in the past. But there were a few things bothering him about the offer. First of all, he just didn’t like Buck Smith. Secondly, from what Smith had to say, there probably wouldn’t be a place for Harry in the Buck Smith Ranch Corporation. Thirdly, the offer just came too easy, and if Joel was any judge of character, the offer was probably significantly below market value. Joel was feeling confused. He knew that life was all about the choices we make, and right now, it seemed as if he was faced with a big choice. He could either sell the Circle H to Buck Smith for 60,000 dollars or he could be a stubborn son-of-a-gun and try to make a go of it in this god-forsaken country. The consequences were obvious. On the one hand, he could have the bar on the beach in Costa Rica with the scantily dressed babes, and on the other hand, he could have a grizzled-up old ranch-hand and a bunch of horses. What the hell was he thinking? One thing he knew for sure—right now, standing in the sparse and desolate yard of the rundown Circle H, there was a battle going on inside of him between his head and his heart. And he didn’t know which was winning. “Let me think it over,” Joel said. “Think it over. Hell, man. What is there to think over? This is a good offer and there just aren’t any other buyers for a small standalone place like this. Besides that, your dad and I had it all arranged.”
he hugs each one and says, “Hi”. Hakim kisses her and says, “Well, today is the day. Today, I’ll meet your father.” “I know, honey. Come, I’ll introduce you to him.” She takes them to the backyard, where some people have already gathered. She finds her father and says, “Dad, this is Hakim.” Matthew looks at Hakim as if inspecting him, and with a broad smile on his face, says pleasantly, “Well, well! I finally get to meet you, Hakim. It’s my pleasure. I have heard quite a lot about you.” Hakim looks at him and responds, “Thank you, Mr. Roberts. The pleasure is mine, and happy birthday.” “Oh, no need for formality. Matthew, is good enough.” Matthew says. Jennifer introduces Talal to her father as well. They shake hands, and Matthew turns and hugs Helena, waiting patiently for her turn. “Happy birthday, Matt,” she says. “Thank you very much, Helena. Thank you, all. Please, feel free, and have a drink. Enjoy the party.” Talal turns and walks away toward the house, hoping to find Emily among all the other people, but he can’t see her anywhere in the backyard. Seeing Matthew for the first time, he sees a person very committed to his work, and Talal appreciates this in any man. But, from Emily’s comments, Talal gathers that this man thinks of work, work, and nothing else. He goes inside and finds Emily in the kitchen talking to a friend. She looks so pretty, to him. She sees him and calls him over. “Cathy, this is Talal, a good friend of Jennifer’s and a good friend of Hakim’s. They came together from Iraq to study here and have done very well.” Talal takes Cathy’s hand and kisses it, as is his custom. “I’m pleased to meet you, Cathy.” “You, too, Talal.” Emily follows him toward the kitchen sink and says, “Oh, Cathy, dear, could you please take this platter outside and place it with the rest of the food?” showing her friend the last cheese platter. Cathy takes the platter and steps outside, while Talal goes to Emily’s side in the kitchen and touches her buttocks as he passes, making her feel a shiver through her spine. She gives him a beautiful smile and blows a kiss toward him, and he smiles back, winks, sends her a kiss through the air, and goes outside. Emily is left there, overpowered by her emotions, and so excited she feels that she wants him, now. Yet, she knows that cannot happen, not now, not today. Is she ever going to enjoy him the same way she enjoyed him the other day?
There The net-like inexistent fans of forgetfulness were the only consolation among the blood of a virgin who never mentioned her name among the songs of the gray substance in the red fine winds yet it was meant between the hooks the wheels the springs and the tears of the young whale to sprout, just like that, a fico tree that decorated the poor hall voices and the unmade tragic beds of spasms
Tyne did not feel like giving her a civil answer. She did not feel like answering at all. But she glanced at Miss Larson, and saw both compassion and encouragement in her eyes. So she spoke as kindly as she could. “No, we’re going to wait until I get home. And, if it makes you feel better, my mother is with the children while I’m at work.” Ruby did not reply. She took the coffee mug and drank thirstily, then put it down and stood up. “I gotta get outta here, I need a smoke.” At the door she paused. “I’ll speak to my husband and we’ll make other arrangements for the kids,” she said haughtily, then left the room without asking again to see her sister. It’s just as well, Tyne thought, because she knew that Lydia’s body had been removed to the funeral home earlier that morning. Miss Larson looked at her nurse whose eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry, Tyne. That was rough. She had no cause to say what she did.” Tyne sniffed and lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Well, she’s upset. I don’t care what she thinks about me, but it sure hurts when people say unkind things about Morley. He’s a good man, Miss Larson. He lives his faith, that’s why people call him a Bible… a ….” She could not finish. Two tears slid down her cheeks, and she brushed them away roughly with her hand. “This is the tough part of our job, Tyne, having to deal with bereaved relatives. We never really get used to it.” Tyne nodded and reached into the pocket of her uniform for a tissue. “In the OR I didn’t have to deal with family, no matter what happened. I suppose I was insulated from the real world. I don’t know if I can handle it.” “You will, Tyne. When you’re called upon to do it, you will. But, as I said, it isn’t easy.” On the Cresswell farm, Rachael stood beside the fence and watched Morley herd the milk cows out to the lush green pasture. She didn’t know what was wrong with her today; she felt listless and lonely.
Kodály race Kodály-futam your poem is either satanic or of the light of neon like the twilight of a pub on a sofa among naked vibrations teen keyboard Kodály changed steps in the brouhaha I am lending out of stitched sixth sense
the well-combed tune with a receipt my ashamed hand into your disguised pixel and the four-sixths between the lines that pinch the ears
on paper the watermark leaves a mark depressed pebbles in my pocket they get togather with a tropical donor heart and in the vision an authentic workshop secret your lovely melody keeps me in vain here to be I carved Kodály from the broken branches and your wicked appearance spoke to me on the street front of the keyboard it speaks hunches my boisterous gaze embalmed your visage
my target is shattering into pieces a Kodály voice’s price can’t be high if the half of some dirty words decreases I am the celebrator of the recent races’ magnificence
I am getting vacant – the new existence is ready at the costume party I’ve changed instruments because Kodály cannot be presented as mockery
Manolis Aligizakis 