VAGRANT PORTRAIT Good Lord, how many acts of leniency, how much barren seed And how many occasional cancellations In the whole of Saint One, as in any man, As in any star, And Good Lord, how can you squeeze So many moments of relaxation, so much luxuriant wantonness In your hieratic warp! Finally, you will not be able to distinguish A walled window from a city, A street from a continent, A familiar face From the Divine Water eventually Burning in bones and flesh. You are the only one coming from the other worlds now Wild, vegetal rhythms Reaching you in lethargic silence Or in what minerals Think about music
He looked down and scuffed the snow with his boot. “I’m gonna join the army.” She almost laughed aloud. “You can’t, you’re too young.” “Yeah, maybe I am now, but someday I’m gonna join up. Right now I’m gonna find work at a farm somewhere, and save my money and travel around a bit.” “Uncle Morley has a farm. He’d give you work, I know he would.” He smiled sadly. “Yeah, probably, but I can’t go there.” “Why not?” “Cause that’s the first place my dad and mom will go looking for us. So I’ve gotta stay as far away from there as possible.” He drew himself up to his full height which Rachael suddenly realized was pretty tall for his age. Then, with a gentle push on their shoulders, he turned them both around. “Okay, you gotta go before you freeze standing here. Bye, Bobby boy. Bye Rachael. Now move.” Rachael turned around. “Oh Ronnie, please don’t go.” But he was already striding away from them. When he reached the end of the block, he looked back and waved, then disappeared around the corner. Rachael took Bobby’s hand and set off in the direction of her aunt’s house. They walked only a few steps before she stopped and turned around. Making sure that Ronald was well out of sight, she tugged Bobby off in the opposite direction. “Where we goin’, Rachael?” She squeezed her brother’s mittened hand. “We’re going to see Uncle Morley and Auntie Tyne.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide. “Do we know the way?” “Sure I do.” She didn’t, but she’d find it. Because she had no intention of going to Uncle Bill’s and Aunt Ruby’s house ever again.
DAWN OF A NEW DAY JULY 18, 1974 With a shiver, Paul Mercier slipped into the chilly waters of the wide Volga River. He gasped as the water leached through his clothes. He was fully dressed in brown polyester bell-bottom pants and blue print shirt, his shoes, watch and wallet tied in plastic inside a makeshift backpack. It was barely light on the cool July morning. He drew a deep calming breath and took in the earthy smells of the rich alluvial soil and the musty odour of the small creatures that lived among the weeds. He began swimming and when the current pulled him away from the tree-lined shore he stroked powerfully to stay in control. He smiled. It was not so bad. He’d been in stronger currents in the surf off Malibu when he was a teenager. In mid-river he broke his rhythm, pulled up and trod water to see if he was still on target. God, had he picked the right riverboat? Yes, he could see it now, the Yuri Dolgoruki. He savoured the relief briefly, allowing his body to float in the wide, smooth gloss of this legendary river. Then, concerned that early morning traffic might mistake him for a floating branch, he launched into a strong breast stroke toward the stern of the boat. Within five minutes, he had gained the rungs and climbed aboard. He was not sure if he had been spotted in the water—there had to be sailors already on early shift. But even if the flinty cruise director or his ugly sidekick were up so early, Paul was not worried about seeing them. He knew how to handle them. He hauled the plastic package off his back, checked that its contents were dry. Then, shaking himself like a wet dog, he broke into laughter. Jennifer would be astonished at what he was about to undertake.
Duality And I laughed at the comedian’s joke as if grabbing onto the ship’s handrail that I wouldn’t fall into the abysmal mouth of the monstrous logic many men appeared hungry for my flesh easy it was to talk to the inexplicable when suddenly I felt the fangs of the inexorable clock ticking their strange hymn lamenting my descent to Erebus, where I was greeted by family members and after my uncle Antony’s funeral we all walked to the proper celebration surprising them all as I too attended and they all understood the meaning of the eagle flying over us as if to confirm on this earth and under it that we once existed
Hellenic Canadian Literature 