Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

Ken put his pencil down and slowly came back to the room. “Come
and take a look,” he said.
She stood beside him and silently gazed at the picture. “I wish I could
do that,” she whispered. Then she placed a hand on his head, “My god,
you’re soaking,” she said. Ken’s hair was as wet as if he had come in from
a spring shower. His shirt clung to his body in damp folds.
Still gloriously naked, Jessica sat beside him on the couch and told him
what it was like to be an Indian. She and her sister had been fortunate.
They had escaped much of the pain that so many of her race had lived
through. The girls had attended a public school but Patrick had been sent
to a residential school and refused to talk about those years.
The Indians had been chased from their land again and again. She expressed
no anger or resentment. Her voice remained gentle and soft –
that gentleness fanned the flames of Ken’s anger. Wars had been fought in
Europe over territory and land. Why had the Indians not fought back?
“It’s not in our nature to lash out and hurt others,” she said. “When we
get hurt, we hurt ourselves. It seems to be something that is rooted deeply
in our cultural background.”
She said that she and Patrick and her sister belonged nowhere. They
were not white and yet by Indian standards, they were not natives either.
They belonged to no tribe and did not live on a reservation. They were
completely free and had no wish to be involved in any part of the political
or racial battle. “We’ve managed to make a very good life for ourselves,”
she said. “We work together, we are partners and we help each other.”
Jessica was describing the life he wished to live. His story was different
but it was also the same. He too had no desire to be categorized or pigeonholed.
He too wanted to unfold and allow life to happen rather than
force any particular direction.
Jessica turned down the lights, leaving one kerosene lamp glowing in
the dark. Then she took Ken’s hand and led him into her bedroom. Like
everything else about her, her room was also unexpected. It was as spare
and sparse as her manner. To still his turmoil, Ken forced all his concentration
on studying his new surroundings. He slipped under the goose
down cover and Jessica lay opposite him, her face cradled in her hand, her
eyes unblinking, gazing deeply into his. “I’ve never slept with a man,” she
said. “I’ll bet you can’t say that.”
“Actually I can,” he said grinning.
“You know what I mean,” she smiled back at him.
“Yes, I do.”
She waited and when he didn’t reach for her, she asked, “Is there something
about me? Maybe, you don’t like me?”

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

O Mother Gaia. The World of Gary Snyder

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O Mother Gaia. The World of Gary Snyder : Ένα σπουδαίο ντοκιμαντέρ του Colin Still για τον βουδιστή ποιητή

Swamped

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Excerpt

On a Wednesday morning, a few days after his afternoon with Frances, Mario called to inform Eteo that the prospectus for Nostra Ventures had been filed and that they should hear from the regulators in three to four weeks. Eteo congratulated Mario for the speedy job he had done, and around noon, Mitch arrived with an equally positive update on the prospectus papers for Alexa Ventures. These were ready, too, and Mitch was taking them personally to the corporate guy upstairs.

Eteo called Cameron and asked him to take care of the new filing as soon as it came in, which he promised to do. A few colleagues from the back office and accounting called Eteo to ask if they could have some shares in Nostra Ventures. Susan was one of them, and Eteo promised a thousand shares to each. He advised them to contact their respective brokers, who would be the ones to write the actual orders. Then he put aside shares for Frances, as he had promised her, and another fifty thousand for John, the head trader, for allocating to a few of his buddies. Finally he reserved ten thousand shares for each of the dozen junior brokers Bradley had suggested to him.

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

Liquid Labyrinth

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a hair on the menu
hajszál az étlapon
searching for a dyed pink hair I am in a quest
like a courtesan in a bed of flowers
my gaze slips to your swollen breasts
I need you only for a few fleeting hours

  • you hide yet I can see your smile rare
    my starry eyes lustfully long for fresh fruit value
    my greedy heart forced me to the air
    to order love from the menu
    my paid embrace diminished by dawn I knew
    intentions bloom among the leaves’ sway
    I cannot master the art of beginning anew
    but I cannot have a kiss any other way
    in my limbs fireworks of adventure spark
    for a few brief hours you’re my tenement
    I’ve ruined it – what can I do without remark
    my opinion is pennyworth it’s evident
    the generosity of the crater of your thighs’ compassion
    ennobles the thirsty emotion
    as I fund your insatiable passion
    our bodies collapse into each other frozen
    I’m walled up in your hairbreadth
    for I became the ashes of your firing squad
    in the fiery twilight to the artistic depth
    my pagan blood was given by the finest god

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763718

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

Especially this morning as he stumbled to
the toilet, dropped to his knees, and wretched his guts out. For
maybe ten or twenty minutes Joel, continued to engage in the ritual
of dry heaves. And every time he thought it was over, because
he needed to get to his office, his entire body would be overcome
by yet another compelling desire to puke and he would once
again gag into the toilet. Once the heaves subsided, Joel was
wasted of whatever strength he might have. The coolness of the
porcelain toilet bowl on his forehead was a comforting feeling as
he rested to regain his strength to rise. Eventually, knowing that
he just could not afford to be late again, Joel rose, brushed his
teeth, and shaved. Lately, Joel had taken to simply using the
razor every other day. But looking at himself in the mirror this
morning, Joel realized that it had probably been three and maybe
even four days since his face had been visited by the razor. Knowing
that with his hands shaking as they were and realizing that he
was going to be late again, Joel opted to quickly shave his upper
lip and race to the office. A shower would have been nice. No, a
shower would have been wonderful, but he couldn’t afford many
more reprimands from the office manager, Mr. Lee, for being late.
Even if he was the best damn engineer on the waterfront, Joel was
pushing his luck.
After throwing his old rumpled suit on, Joel rushed down the
stairs to the teeming street below where he quickly hailed a cab and
twenty minutes later rushed into the offices of Empire Engineering
Works. Empire was one of those harbor-based engineering firms
that specialized in all kinds of projects on the Hong Kong waterfront.
Joel had been with Empire for many years now, including
postings at the home office in London and an endless string of
assignments around the globe that usually lasted anywhere from
twelve to twenty-four months. He had actually spent nearly three
years at one posting in Amsterdam, but that was only because of
overlapping projects, and once the first project, a new dry dock facility,
was completed, he was asked to finish up a project with another
team of engineers who were designing a new pier for the ferry fleet.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Αλήτις Τσαλαχούρη, Δύο ποιήματα

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Αλήτις Τσαλαχούρη, Δύο ποιήματα

Savages and Beasts

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Excerpt

Mary Goldberg, just twenty-five years old, who had graduated
from the McGill University of Toronto, daughter of a very
affluent Toronto family with Jewish roots, after a disappointing
erotic relationship with a young man of Jewish roots too, and
against the wishes of her parents, and against the wishes of her
best friend Rosalyn, had decided to travel across the country
and after she spent a few months on the road, and after she lived
temporarily in a few Canadian cities, she ended up in this Indian
Residential School, in Kamloops BC, where she was hired as an
administrator assistant; Mary, who stood almost six feet high
with long black hair that fell on her back almost to her waist,
was a clever eyed young woman with fair attitude; her characteristics
were complimented by her hazel eyes and full lips, an
aesthetically shaped nose and a very shapely body.
This body, hidden under the tight outfits, which Mary
liked to wear was easily discerned by the piercing eyes of Father
Jerome, who never missed noticing such things especially since
he was appointed the head of this facility in Kamloops BC,
here, where no one would ever come to check what was going on
and how the Indian Residential School was run. He knew
of course that he had some guidance from the church and the
Federal Canadian Minister on issues pertaining to education
and curricula, yet the rest of the details were up to him and him
alone, which placed him at the top of a heap he would never ever
step down from. And he made sure all members of the teaching
personnel as well as everybody else, from the British Columbia
Provincial Legislators to the Mayor of Kamloops, to the rest of
the citizens knew who he was and what his goals were; therefore
no one could ever interfere with his decisions regarding the daily
affairs in the running of the school, and the savage kids he was
meant to educate, come hell or high water.
“I wish you peaceful days and nights, Anton,” Mary said,
and her lips showed a faint tremble.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

Rachael giggled. “You’re silly,” she said as she hurried to the chair that Tyne indicated.
Five minutes later, Rachael ran over to where Bobby sat on the floor plowing an imaginary furrow with his new tractor. “Look, Bobby, look at my new shoes. Aren’t they beautiful?”
Bobby glanced up with a puzzled frown. “They’re just shoes.”
Tyne laughed as she lifted the boy to his feet. “Come on, you two, we have to pay for all these things.”
While the clerk, a young married woman whom Tyne knew only as Doreen, sorted out the purchases and rang the prices into the till, Tyne tried to ride herd on Bobby. But Rachael stood at the counter, gazing at the new shoes, making sure that Doreen didn’t overlook them.
From a few feet away Tyne heard the door open, followed by a female voice demanding, “Rachael, what are you doing here?”
Tyne swung around to see Ruby Harrison bearing down on the startled child at the cash register. Then Rachael squealed and launched herself at her aunt. “Auntie Ruby.”
Ruby bent to give Rachael a brief hug, then straightened her back and looked at Tyne who now held the hand of a recalcitrant Bobby.
“Hello, Ruby. How are you?”
Ruby ignored her, focusing instead on the clothes and toys that the clerk was placing in brown paper bags on the counter. Her eyebrows raised, she looked at Tyne. “New clothes?”
Tyne nodded. “Yes, they both need play clothes and Rachael has to have something decent for school.”
“I’m sure my sister had plenty of clothes for them at home, if you’d bothered to look.” She walked to the counter and fingered a pink wool sweater. “These look expensive. Who’s paying for them?”
Two immediate responses sprang to Tyne’s mind. It isn’t any of your business, and I defy you to find anything expensive in this store. But she forced herself to say quietly, “Morley and I are buying them for the children.”
Ruby lifted her chin. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I spoke to Corky, and he’s going to sign over custody to me and Bill.

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

Jazz With Ella

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Excerpt

They sneered like rival dogs and bared their teeth. She could not catch their mumbled conversation. Abruptly the current was broken. Volodya leaned back in his chair, innocent, fresh-faced. The newcomer looked over his shoulder repeatedly as if someone might see him in this den of decadence.
“Dance with him,” Volodya ordered her.
Surprised, she stared. The stranger’s fingers were already on her wrist. He opened his mouth in a grin, revealing several black teeth and a large gap in his smile. His breath smelled like sour milk. Dance. Just a two step. One-two, one-two, and back again. Twirl. He pulled her around the dance floor, breathing heavily, then closer, tighter, until his belt buckle pressed uncomfortably in her abdomen. She pretended not to understand his language when he spoke to her. “Krasavitsa, beautiful woman,” he said.
Just smile and twirl, she thought.
When the music ended, he returned her to the table. Volodya’s eyes were on her. Thank you, they told her. The man sat with them, uninvited. There was more vodka, toasts to Soviet-Canadian friendship—this from Black-Teeth. A toast to Jennifer, the beautiful, amazing woman from Canada! This wish was from Volodya and a slobbering drunk from the next table who smiled an elastic grin. More dancing. This time with Volodya. Black-Teeth left without saying goodbye.
Then someone was suggesting a toast to the cosmonauts, another was toasting his mother, another cheered a black-eyed seductress called Masha, who was not present to hear her toast.
Someone passed a bottle of vodka up to the band. The musicians handed it around, took swigs, became more animated. The ugly bass player took four steps to the front of the stage, four steps back and the piano player flashed spasmodic smiles in between frowns of concentration. The band broke loose on a popular modern song; the crowd roared approval. Only the waiters were unsmiling, weary.
In a brief, lucid moment between drinks, Jennifer looked around her in surprise. She had been in the Soviet Union what?—eight, nine days? “It’s all part of the Russian experience,” she murmured. Then there were more stomach-turning toasts, the pungent sweat of bodies that shared bathrooms, the rigid motions of the jazz band. Volodya and Jennifer laughed, danced. By the time they left, bursting into the street, it was empty of people. His arm rested lightly on the back of her waist. She knew they would make love that night.

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

Four Roman Poems in Versions by Thomas Alexander Gaul

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Four Roman Poems in Versions by Thomas Alexander Gaul