Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

Excerpt

Ken wanted to know how one could have a political system that worked
when society, even on the smallest scale, was dysfunctional. He pointed
out that even in their own household they had servants, all of them women,
most of them young and illiterate, who were paid a pittance. In most
households the servants were treated like animals. In a country where this
was going on, how could there ever be a fair political system?
“Just between you and I, that is my interest,” Ken Sr. Said. “But, you
can’t go into the street with guns and mobs behind you – it just doesn’t
work. What we need to do is bring the wages of the people up so they will
have something to lose. People who have nothing to lose are the most
dangerous people on earth.”
He explained that it was because of this reasoning that he paid his staff
double the normal salary. “That,” he said, “Is actually a very political act
because the handful of families who wield power want to keep the populace
down so they can control them. Doing what I am doing is an overt
political act. “
His father said that he was walking a thin line but if he could get away
with what he was doing, he would win. Others would have to follow his
lead – they would have to match the salaries he was paying or all the best
brains in the country would go to work for him. Once he had the best
brains, he would be in a position to start other companies and continue
to expand his business interests to the detriment of others. But as his
companies grew and he employed more and more people fairly, his ideas
would also spread.
“But that’s a very slow way of doing things,” Ken said. “I want to change
things quickly.”
“There are no quick fixes,” his father said. “Anybody who tells you there
are is just selling you snake oil.”
Ken had complained to his father several times about the servants. He
explained that he couldn’t bear being served – that he felt uncomfortable
with it. “Why can’t we get up and serve ourselves?” he asked. “What’s
wrong with us making our own beds? What’s wrong with us cleaning the
house?”
“That’s the culture we’re in,” his father said. “We’re not in charge here.
This is not our country. We’re here as guests and there’s a limit to how
much we can disrupt this society.”
“It sounds a bit like an excuse.”
“Partially, it is. But anyone who wants to move things along too quickly
is going to destroy the very thing they’re trying to do.”
He added that he paid their servants the same way he paid his office
and factory workers – twice what anyone else paid. He admonished his
son once again to be careful with his conversation in earshot of the servants.
The Kirkbys were a prominent, well-known and powerful family,

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

The Curious Origin of the Word “Agnostic”

Missa Bestialis

Vision II


the dusk rolls up
projected on the wall
with phosphor sizzling phantoms
the night envelops
our heads a quiver in their eyes
the minute hands
the midnight shows
on the opal sky the moon
towards the hills it runs
where with black chess pieces
in their mouths rats climb
in a long succession

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume V

Photographs

Three men and two women, taking pictures

down at the quay with the sea as background

and the clouds, and a faraway, triangular island.

The sailboats pulled out onto the land, looking discoloured

from the winds and the rain. Behind the glass

of the summer restaurant, the motionless owner

wears a black unironed suit. Was he taking

pictures of them too, or x-rays?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763726

Δάφνη Χρονοπούλου, Γιορτή

Water in the Wilderness

Excerpt

At first she could see only the tossing head of the Holstein cow that Morley had long ago named Jezebel for her nasty disposition. Sparky sat in the straw close to the pen, tail wagging, ears forward, almost begging to be let in to the pen to help. As Tyne walked closer to the rails she saw Morley, bare from the waist up, standing behind the cow with his right arm almost hidden inside of her.
Tyne gasped and Morley glanced up. His face crimson from the effort of the struggle, he said haltingly, “Tyne … you’re up. I … I didn’t get a chance to … check on you.”
Jezebel, tied by a rope to a post, tossed her head, bellowed and tried to land a kick on her perceived tormentor who deftly sidestepped to avoid the flinging hoof.
Tyne raised her voice to be heard above the cow’s deafening bawl. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m trying to … turn the calf. It … it was coming backend first.”
“Oh yeah,” Tyne said, “breach delivery. I didn’t know cows did that.” She raised her voice as the big animal lashed out with its right hind leg, missing Morley’s knee by inches. “Morley, can I help? What can I do?”
She started to open the pen gate, but he stopped her with a warning glance. “No, Tyne, don’t come in here, it’s too dangerous. She … she’s not the gentlest cow we have.”
An understatement, Tyne thought as she stepped back. But she felt helpless. She wished Morley had someone to help him because she feared for his safety. But what could she do? She knew of only one veterinarian in the area; most of the farmers were well practiced in taking care of emergencies. But when it came to animals like Jezebel, they needed all the help they could get. Morley had talked of selling the unruly beast, but she was one of his best milk cows and produced excellent offspring.
From her vantage point beside the gate, Tyne saw Morley’s face turn crimson and heard him grunt with one last effort. Then he stepped back and away from Jezebel who interpreted her sudden freedom as a signal to lie down.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Entropy

Strange People  

We are a strange people

a race of falling stars

stardust in the myths of others

the marine wealth of destiny

exiled in museum halls

once we commanded the light of nothingness

aged oarsmen of history

we search to name what is absent

the continuation of an absent passage

for the flow to the unexpected

the place where the dead gods

still breathe.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPCRLJC6

ένα έτσι, 12 ανάσες

Unfulfilled

Heartmelts and Heartaches
If a given situation
Has a romantic sensation
Then a ratio determines
Actual levels of its romance
If you divide the strength of love
By its realistic chance
You’ll get something that indicates
Future heart melts and heartaches
Shooting Stars
Shooting stars are fast
Dreams come true slow
Until you forget
A wish long ago
For many years now
I kept the same wish
It’s you – fate allow –
I’d like to be with
And now I recall
A wish that came true
I was wishing before
That I could find you

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763688

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

Excerpt

“I’ll give it to you,” Ken said.
“No,” he said. “You have to learn about artwork. You don’t give it away.
If you do, it becomes worthless. Things that are given, such as works of
art, tend to sit on the shelf for a while and then they go into a bedroom
somewhere and before you know it they’re in the basement and they become
part of the flotsam and jetsam of people’s lives. But if you pay a
great sum of money for something it goes over the mantel and you hold
cocktail parties to boast about your acquisition. That is one side of the art
world you’re going to have to learn about. How do we attribute value to
something in a world that understands very little? Everything is quantified
in our world. Therefore, if it has a big number attached to it, it must
be of great value.”
Ken and Rui agreed on a sum of money that was not too great but that
seemed like a great deal to Ken. With great pride he told his father that he
had sold a drawing to Rui.
“Did you offer to give it to him?” His father asked.
“Yes, I did and he wouldn’t take it,” Ken said and repeated what Rui
had told him.
Ken Sr. smiled. “Yes, that’s probably quite wise,” he said.
One day, When Francisco and Ken came out of the shack to go fishing
they noticed a young woman walking on the beach. Ken had seen her
from time to time walking to or from the hospital where she worked, or
climbing down the cliffs to the ocean. On this day, as so often happened,
the beach was empty, save for themselves and the marine life that scurried
about the rocks. The young woman had not seen the old man and the boy
and thinking herself utterly alone, took off her clothes and walked into
the water. Ken was mesmerized; she was the most beautiful creature he
had ever seen. “Look at that,” he whispered to Francisco.
“Yes,” he said, as though reading his thoughts, “She is very beautiful.
She has a limp, you know.”
“What does a limp have to do with anything?”
“It’s a long and complicated story – and we should not be interfering
here. She thinks she’s alone so let’s let her be alone.”
From that day on she became Ken’s passion. He discovered that she
was a nursing student and that she had come from a village several miles
away. Her family were peasants but she had studied hard because she was
determined that she would not become a servant for rich people.
He also became friends with Dawn Coates, a girl who was being tutored
at the same small school he attended each day. Her parents were
divorced – her mother, American, and her father, English. She was one
of the first children he had ever admired. She was strong and direct and
seemed fearless.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573