Swamped

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excerpt

“Have you heard anything?” Eteo asked him
“No, nothing so far,” Richard admitted.
“When did you call last?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I guess they must still be working on it.”
“I wouldn’t assume that. I don’t like this at all. Why don’t you
take a quick flight down there and check things out for yourself?”
“Go to Texas?” Richard’s voice sounded alarmed.
“Why not? It’s your money they’re spending.”
There was an uncomfortable silence at the other end of the line
before Richard said, hesitantly, “I’m actually not that fond of airplanes
and flying.”
“Okay, send one of your directors.”
“There must be another way,” Richard replied. “Let me call the
finder, the man who brought me this deal. I’ll talk to him.”
“All right, but let me know what you find out. Who is it anyway?
Do I know him?”
“It’s Walter Cooper.”
“I know Walter. I could talk to him. Yes, it might be better that
way. Leave it to me. I’ll call him and get back to you,” Eteo said and
put the phone down. He noticed he was breathing fast. It upset him.
Then he saw the big trades of Platinum stock, big chunks all
bought by Nomura. He smiled and relaxed. The market looked clean
even beyond the three-dollar mark. He had hit a good one, he knew,
and if Mario’s Nostra is agreed on by this group, he had better keep
as much stock as he could for his accounts and give lots of it to his
key people, the ones who did most of his business. Eteo had a large
number of accounts, but only about fifteen percent of them traded
often. Those were the clients he needed to reward when a good issue
came along. Mario’s Nostra Ventures was beginning to look like it
could be one of them.
Eteo started making a list of where the big chunks of Nostra
shares should go, starting with Yannis, Angelo, Spiro and his brother
Michael, Herbert, and then Eteo’s personal accounts, Ariana’s,
Logan’s, and Mitch’s. George and Peter, whom Eteo had used as directors
of his shell companies a couple of times, should also be there…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562976

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

Troglodytes

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III
Oh, Goddess, mother of all art
grace this troglodyte with
a path unspoiled by envy
never ploughed by jealousy, since
you can only purge him of ego
you who are consumed in fire
yet like the invincible phoenix
you spring out from the ashes new,
you reemerge with golden wings
with sharpened talons. Come and
grant this poor troglodyte with
the laughter of the perches and
sea anemones; come fill his deck with
the scent of the bitter orange flowers
dancing in his nostrils, with basil,
oregano, parsley, mint, and sorrel
with falling leaves and sunlit mornings
grant him the purpose of enjoying
the bursting thirteen-year-old breast
which dances in midair like an aura
and defines unfurled wonders and dreams.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4280502#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186583

In the Quiet After Slaughter

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excerpt

A widower, Dwayne Levine was the recipient of a disabled
worker’s pension. Those who had observed him flinging heavy
engine parts around his yard or stumbling home from the Kingsway
Pub most nights viewed with suspicion his claim of an irreparable
lower disc. Few car club members knew—as my pal O’Donnell did,
living across the alley from Ed’s garage—that Mr. Levine routinely
took the Dodge out after midnight. He also disappeared with it on
those occasions when a member was ill and the car at rest. He was
something of a philanthropist with the housewives, Mr. Levine was,
often loitering in the Shop Eazy parking lot offering free deliveries.
– Boys everywhere love two things, Dwayne Levine philosophized:
girls and cars. His sobs had been reduced to a snivel with a
second complimentary wedge of pie.
– If we had what these young fellas have today, he said, the war
never would have happened!
Back on patrol, Mahoney aired another possibility.
– I say the club’s a front for some kind of gangland activity.
Maybe one of us should go undercover. Whaddya think?
– Spit it all out, Mahoney! barked the senior policeman. The Huns
are scaling the walls!
– One of us — me, I guess — could pose as a potential buyer. I
could ask to see the vehicle up close. Maybe get inside the garage
without a search warrant.
The sergeant feared for the future knowing the likes of Mahoney
represented the next generation of law enforcement, although he
agreed the need for a search warrant was the most damaging invention
since the right to silence.
– People in this part of town, McManus reminded his young partner,
distrust strangers with crewcuts and the physique of a footballer.
Besides, he added, perhaps you hadn’t noticed? The Dodge
isn’t for sale!
McManus allowed himself a moment to despair.
– An Indian shaman said the Creator gave us two eyes, two ears
and one mouth, Mahoney. He reminds you of this so that you might
observe and listen twice as much as you talk.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562874

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897971

HEAR ME OUT

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Both Edges
At both edges of the emotion.
I love you as much as I hate you.
My beloved, hated love!
We don’t meet anymore.
We walk on parallel paths going opposite directions.
For a long time, we have passed the point where we met for the first time.
We can only go around the globe once more, since life is round like the earth.
Until then, each of us alone…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562946

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763807

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume II

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Proletariat Speaker
He tried to speak; hesitated;
He repeated the same words; he stopped.
That was all, he said, and placed his hands on the table.
His hand, steady and with a clear outline, like
a big trowel. We could trust in the words
he didn’t say and in his hands.
The buzzing light descended outside the room.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562968

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0851M9LTV

Rendition

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Possessions
A dove hides in the laurel branches
the veiled sun regrets
your use of his myth as you pile
ephemeral victories, wounded songs
peace colors the underbelly of the tank
Light unbuttons her coat, smiles
as the intravenous drips heartbeats
hunted breaths inside your sickness
gifting you with engraved axiom
Of all you have amassed, none is yours
Overhanging willow’s
green whisper to the lake
something is, then is not
rose blooms summer in your eyes
All ivory-lit verse succumbs to
Light opening her fan as if to speak
an unction before the last drip of syringe
anoints you an inch of yawning column
space
writes on your skin of vanity
Of all you have gathered, none is yours

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

Water in the Wilderness

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excerpt

Tyne held her breath, partly from anxiety, partly to avoid breathing in the stale, musty odour coupled with an even stronger smell of cigarette smoke than she had detected in the lobby.
“Here it is,” Arthur said suddenly with a slight tug on her arm, “room 312.” He rapped lightly on the door and waited. When there was no response, he raised his hand and rapped louder and longer.
They heard the creak of bed springs followed by a low groan. Arthur rapped again. A muffled voice from inside the room rasped, “Whatdaya want? Go away.”
“Corky Conrad,” Arthur boomed, “is that you?”
The answer was drowned out by several doors along the corridor opening simultaneously. Tyne swung around to see three grizzled heads peering out. A woman from the room across the hall pulled a threadbare dressing gown around her and whined, “Why don’t you shut up? It’s enough to wake the dead. Whatchadoin’ here, anyway? It’s the middle of the night, and you won’t get any response from old Corky for hours yet.”
Arthur ignored her and banged on the door again. “Come on, Corky, open up. There’s someone here to see you.”
From inside the room they heard a shuffling sound accompanied by angry muttering. “Can’t ya even wait till a man gets his pants on? All right, I’m comin’, I’m coming.”
Tyne felt weak in the knees. She longed to lean against the wall for support, but one glance at the greasy, peeling paint changed her mind. She wanted to yell at Corky to hurry up; she could stand the suspense no longer.
Finally, the door opened a crack, and Tyne saw an unshaven face with bloodshot eyes below rumpled graying hair. Corky Conrad had deteriorated even since she saw him in December. Holding tight to the door with one hand and the waist of his pants with the other, he glared at Arthur, then squinted hard at Tyne.
“Wha … Tyne? What’re ya doing here?”
Tyne started to answer but Arthur took her arm and propelled her through the door. “We’d like to come in if you don’t mind.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

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

Tasos Livaditis – Selected Poems

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SIMPLE TALK

…How can one sing
Here, where our lives were eggshells under
their boots
with death so ever close
and from a patch on the hole of your elbow
with the name of the dead comrade
like a fork piercing your tongue?
It’s enough that we speak
in a simple way
as one is hungry in a simple way
as one loves
as we die
in a simple way.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562930

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763831

George Seferis – Collected Poems

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THE SHAPE OF FATE

…Now I don’t know how to read further
because they tied you in chains, cause they pierced you
with the spear,
cause one night in the forest they separated you
from the woman
who looked with her eyes fixated and didn’t know
how to speak,
cause they deprived you of light, the pelagos, the bread.
How did we fall, comrade, in the trap of fear?
It wasn’t in your fate, nor in mine these writings
we never bought or sold such things
who is he who orders and kills behind our backs?
Let it be, don’t ask; three red horses on the threshing floor
circle around human bones and have their eyes covered,
let it be, don’t ask, wait; the blood, the blood
will rise one morning like St George the horse rider
to nail the dragon to the soil with his spear.

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B096TTS37J

Introspection

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ZETA

…I said,
together they fight
the common enemy called hunger,
the endless source of need
for equilibrium
the unhealed wound or
the bleeding scar
of the twentieth century
as always and
I said,
together they define
the meaningful schemata
of the swallow’s flight path
that slices the wind
caressing it with a winged shadow
together they formulate
the essence of the unexpected
soft pain and sweetness
together they constitute
the final, greatest monad.

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

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