First, from contributor Jacques Fleury, an announcement of a new book! “Immortal Lines of Poetry” by Sourav Sarkar and Jacques Fleury

A collaboration between myself and internationally renowned poet Sourav Sarkar of India. The book presents us both as “2 Poets of the Common Era Literature Period” (a term Sarkar claims to have coined himself on Oct. 24, 2021 and is celebrated worldwide on its founding date yearly) and allows the reader an opportunity to “sample” our poetic styles and substance. It is at times a supple staccato or eroticism, at times mesmerizingly musical of humanism, at times visceral to its soul core but eventually reaches a crescendo to volcanic eruption of literary passion, hope and inspiration for our seemingly crumbling humanity. Here is a sample of one of MY poems from the book. Hope you check it out on Amazon. Merci beaucoup! 

This month’s issue focuses on what’s going on inside of all of us, and how that shapes who we are. We’re going Beneath the Surface.

Stella Kwon’s paintings explore dreams, childhood, fantasy, and the interiority needed for a creative life. Jacques Fleury’s sample poem from his new book Immortal Lines of Poetry looks into dreams and internal inspiration. Debabrata Maji’s poem traces his heart’s inner journey. Damon Hubbs tracks the odds and ends running through his mind while watching competitive tennis. Annabel Kim’s artwork explores and celebrates human and natural creativity. Ma Yongbo evokes the change of seasons, nature, and mortality.

Mark Young renders maps and nature into works of art in his ‘geographies.’ J.K. Durick speaks to intellectual experiences – the news, books, museums – and how we communicate ourselves to ourselves. Jasmina Saidova honors an inspirational teacher as Abdirashidova Ozoda explores possibilities for digital technology in early childhood education. Eshmamatova Shabbona traces the history and evolution of Uzbek literature and Munira Xolmirzayeva traces the history of Russian writing.

Eva Petropoulou Lianou praises the delicate elegance of Lily Swarn’s new poetry collection A Drop of Cosmos. Uralova Gulmira highlights themes of personal experience and motherhood in the patriotic writings of Uzbek poet Saida Zunnunova. Sayani Mukherjee reflects on being driven towards poetry in a full and changing world. Dr. Rasmiyya Sabir writes of romantic love, poetic inspiration, and the irrepressible drive to be heard.

Jakhongir Nomozov interviews poet Rustam Bekhrudi, who intends to capture and convey the resilient Turkish spirit in his writing. Mesfakus Salahin speaks to human psychology and the drive to live amid the allure of death. Mahbub Alam describes a night of discomfort due to mosquitoes, which he endures by thinking of people who have it much worse. Abdisattorova Hurshida’s short story highlights the dignity and self-determination and patience of the hardworking rural poor in Uzbekistan, even when facing death.

Hanen Marouani probes our internal emotional life with tenderness. Bill Tope uncovers the veil of a past sixth grade classroom where the students and teacher are full of inner and outer turmoil. Alan Catlin continues his surreal examination of the physical manifestations of work anxiety as Elbekova Nilufar warns of the danger to our eyes and psyches posed by Internet addiction. Emeniano Somoza Jr. reflects on what we lose by lessening the ups and downs of our emotional nature. Donia Sahab’s poetry probes the psychological torment and confusion Dr. Alaa Basheer alludes to in his painting. J.J. Campbell navigates loneliness with his trademark wit and cynicism.

Joana L.J. Milovanovic’s words bear witness to the psychological and physical damage domestic abusers inflict. Mykyta Ryzhykh’s characters find themselves subsumed by the crushing violence of a metaphorical “leviathan.” Alex S. Johnson reflects on his friendship with Runaways band member and visionary Kari Lee Krome and how the music industry elevates and chews people up.

Jakhongir Nomozov’s speaker reasserts himself after intense seasons of emotional pain and rejection. Soumen Roy highlights the importance of respect and patience in true love. Munisa Rustamova expresses gratitude for her mother’s constant love in a harsh world full of fake people. Alex S. Johnson and Kandy Fontaine assert their confidence in their way of living and loving and show how power is expressed through service and care, not abuse. Liderqiz demonstrates this ethic of service through a profile of Uzbek Information Service leader Dilbar Ashilbayeva.

Andela Bunos speaks of the universal human grief of lost love. Kristy Raines’ poetry expresses commitment to a romantic relationship despite being separated. Lola Ijbrater outlines the rise and fall of a romance through a series of flowers. Ken Gosse describes heartbreak through clever poems with increasing numbers of lines. Eva Petropoulou’s lines address intimate love and the beauty of forgiveness. Annamurodov Umarbek reflects on coming of age after losing his father.

Journalist Giorgos Pratzikos and literary figure Eva Petropoulou Lianou interview Greek writer Fay Rempelou about how she intends to inspire peace, creativity, and humanity through her poetry. Nilufar Mo’ydinova presents a thoughtful exploration of artificial intelligence’s potential and how to mindfully develop it for the benefit of human creativity. Taghrid Bou Merhi traces the moral ascent of humankind, as societies developed respect for life, human rights, and gender equity. Omonova Sevinch highlights the importance of educating women and girls to uplift society. Graciela Noemi Villaverde points out the power of icons and commemorations of peace to interrupt the hostility that leads to war.

Giorgos Pratzikos interviews actor and children’s author Zisis Papaioanou on his craft, his artistic vision, his inspirations in Christ and Aristotle, and desire for Greeks to have more neighborly concern and look out for each other.

Taylor Dibbert reflects on the impression Americans make while traveling abroad. Doug Hawley and Bill Tope present a humorous tale of unintended interplanetary cooperation. Duane Vorhees’ poetry deals with our humanity, the roles we play in life and who we choose to become to each other.

Abdel Iatif Moubarak’s words express solitude and the hopes and dreams of individuals and communities in an uncertain world. Abigail George reviews Nadine AuCoin’s horror novel Tucked Inn, a tale of survival and good overcoming evil. Justin Faisal, a Rohingya refugee from Myanmar and advocate for his fellow refugees, writes of his inner journey of perseverance and finding beauty in life. Sharifova Saidaxon reflects on similar sentiments, finding forgiveness and acceptance through her faith.

We hope this issue inspires you to dig into your inner psyche and uncover strength and reach for your hopes and dreams.

BRIDGES WALLS AND DOORS

liars(lovers)(artists)

execute an honest

condemned activity

misshaping reality

art is a seed a hedge

love is a need a bridge

that connects a leisure

to unextinguished torture

greenest seeds weed their way

from criminalities

too covert to commit

and too active to stay hid

the right to scream is held

only by us tortured

the will is a wall made

to support or separate

the corpse is tradition’s

usual exhaustion

of palettes and menus

and an unfreedom to choose

love and art are the words

used to mimic or urge

the word is a closed door

but an urge opens the door

COUNTING THE COCKS IN THE HEN HOUSE

How many celebrants have danced in your penetralium?

Your hangar has sheltered how many planes?

COME THE REVOLUTION

Which among you shall being sandwiches?

And who’ll organize the selfies?

Which manifesto would you execute?

“The sky must be purged if the earth is to prevail!”

“The earth must be buried for Heaven to reveal!”

Which Utopia would you provoke?

Which of the pasts should be banned?

But don’t be the freak hot on the runway

or the gangster in church.,

don’t be the priest caught in the whore house,

or banker man in the line-up.

[The democracy entered upon the struggle with dictatorship heavily armed with sandwiches and candles. — Trotsky]

IN MY DEFENSE

And dark it was, yes, and I: alone

but full unwilling to succumb

and weaponed she: silk&smile&cologne.

Yet I still could hold my own

till lastly, Your Honor, did she come

at me with All the moon.

TIRED ONES STILL ALIVE 

Anđela Bunoš, Serbia 

There are hearts you cannot hold,

even if I shared the stories they hide.

My smile belongs to the world,

but my tears are saved for one soul alone.

I wear a smile for all to see, Suzana—

and you should know the truth beneath.

I won’t whisper that you’re rare,

nor confess how deeply I long for you.

For if your eyes can’t find it,

then words would fall in vain.

But I know you feel it still,

for our roads run side by side.

Our souls remember,

our lips confess in silence.

Our gazes speak, weary of life—

yet still, somehow,

you and I remain alive.

Anđela Bunoš was born on October 2, 1998, in Belgrade. She completed her undergraduate and master’s studies at the Faculty of Teacher Education, University of Belgrade. She is currently working as a teacher at the “Sava Šumanović” Elementary School in Zemun.

Poem While Watching the U.S. Open Tennis Tournament

on Thursday August 28th, 2025

I want Coco Gauf to sign my balls but her nails are cutlass and saber.

I like her leather jacket, too

and the fact that she named her Labubu

Arthur Flashe leads me to believe

that if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out

the second act in her American life

might be as Poet Laureate of Boynton, Beach Florida.

Already there’s no watermelon at the deli.

Tomorrow’s Friday maybe we’ll get a round of brie.

I need to pick up my coat with the hummingbird lining

renew my library card, study the pictures

the doctor took of my colon —Appendiceal Orifice

Ileocecal Valve, Splenic Flexure;

Jupiter’s Great Red Spot may have existed before 1665.  

Do beams, rooster wing, from the tip of the Bronx Zoo

to the Hudson Line

the BX12 is sloppy love. Last time

I was in New York we went to the MoMA.

You tried to fuck the Serra box cubes.

I have no clarity of emotion. Things are blowing up.

Right scale, right scope, I memorize the universe on dope.

I guess it’s never too late to dodge August for September.

We lack compelling storylines.

Escape from Alcaraz is a lowercase observation.  

A good night in

is watching that movie

where all the virgins die —this from Austin

who says I should write more symbolically.   

Seething like elm disease, clouds like railroads…

Dachau-black. Too many likes green my bruise.

What the fuck. This is the most serious stanza yet.

We are lying and filthy and volleying for love.

Net cord, colon red, I memorize the universe on dope

and feel the hummingbird fly out of my coat.

Tommy Paul —no, no, I never trust a guy with two first names.

In the Corners of Longing- translated from Arabic

By Dr. Jihane el-Feghali 

See how butterflies drift away in silence when they find no flower in the garden to play with its colors.

And how the breezes sigh when the trees ignore them, searching, in vain, for a branch to cradle them…

See how a melody falls mute when the words abandon it—lost between presence and absence, 

between being and nothingness.

 Childhood glimmers alone in the world of grown-ups

mocked by cunning fingers, watched by eyes that whisper farewell.

Look at the birds, how they changed their path when orchards no longer danced to the rhythm of their songs.

There, in the corners of longing, a small dream scatters despite the pain of separation—racing with time, playing with its shadow, and dozing off in its embrace…

It redraws old meetings—will they ever return?

There, in the corners of longing, a face still lingers on the horizon,

a beating heart bleeding in silence,

words dwelling in untold tales—seeking the echo of a breeze, a voice to return to them the sigh of memory.

And a rose, whose fragrance is the whisper of a wish.

And a star…

Annabel Kim is a high school student from Massachusetts whose artwork explores the intersections of memory, identity, and landscape. She often works in mixed media and oil, drawing inspiration from both everyday life and literature. Her work has been featured in student exhibitions, and she is excited to share her art with a broader audience through literary publications.

The Vorg

Sally was standing at the kitchen window over the sink one night, peering into the darkness, when the saucer landed in her back yard. Instantly her eyes opened wide and she shouted, “Duke, come in here. ET has landed!”

Her husband of 40+ years tumbled out of his recliner in the living room, tossed his newspaper aside and made a beeline for the kitchen. As he walked in, Sally mutely pointed out the window. Duke craned his neck and stared.

“Goodnight, nurse,” he muttered, then opened one of the cabinets and extracted a small black revolver. Taking out a box of ammo, he fitted bullets into the empty chambers, opened the window and pointed the weapon at the invaders.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

With the smell of cordite thick in the air, the pair peeped through the window to see what damage Duke had done.

An alien, ghostly gray and three feet tall and with shadows where its eyes might have gone, approached the window, levitated and handed Duke the three spent bullets. There was no sign of damage to ET.

“Gblrbg!” scolded the alien.

Duke blinked down at the undamaged bullets.

“What is he saying, Duke?” inquired Sally.

Duke turned up his cell phone and said, “Alexa, translate Gblrbg.”

They waited for a moment, then Alexa said, “Ass wipe.”

“Thank you, Alexa,” murmured Duke.

The alien began to speak, but Duke presented his iPhone and the alien started anew.

At length, Alexa translated the verbiage as: “Astral parasite, we of the planet Vorg intend to mine your miserable world for precious Ygbl (cigarette butts) and Zglzh (plastic waste) with which to replenish our stock of planetary fuel. Resist and you will be hgsgl (neutralized). Cooperate and we will make you wealthy as Ythgx (Croesus). Our excavation will take approximately thirty of your earth days.” ET then withdrew to his saucer.

Sally and Duke stared at each other, dumbfounded.

One month to the day later, the alien returned to the kitchen window and handed Sally and Duke a king’s ransom in precious jewels. The pair accepted the riches avidly and bid the alien farewell. They watched as he returned to his spacecraft and prepared to embark, when suddenly the saucer violently exploded. Sally recoiled and screamed.

“What happened, Duke?” cried Sally.

“I reported the aliens to Homeland Security,” replied Duke quietly.

“But why?” she said incredulously. “They took all the cigarette butts and plastic waste from the planet,” she protested. “What did they do wrong?”

“They were using up possibly valuable resources,” Duke told his wife. “Some of them mated with earthlings and they were poisoning our blood lines.”

“But, they seemed so nice,” remarked Sally distractedly.

“On their planet,” said Duke, “they were probably thieves and rapists and escapees from insane asylums.”

Sally looked out and the still smoldering embers of the saucer and sighed.

“I guess you’re right. They must’ve been interplanetary vermin.”

The next day another similar saucer hovered over their backyard. A voice from the saucer said “Do not attack. We come in thanks. We wish you well and have many blessings to bestow upon you.” This time no translation was needed.

Before Duke could grab his pistol, Sally asked him to listen to them.

The saucer landed and a similar alien came out of a portal and approached. “We got our language skills from people who were selling what you call cheap crap on television. Thank you for killing criminals from our planet.”

“Were they thieves, rapists, and escapees from insane asylums?” asked Duke.

“No, but they were intent on overtaking Vorg. We didn’t want that. What we want is ice cream, Coke, Brazil nuts, and coffee. And of course the Russian women who want to marry American men. You will like what we offer in exchange.”

“What’s that?”

“We can send more of what the criminals sent before, or we have saunas and salons which generate their own power, our pets which you will love and will love you if you know what I mean, and honest politicians if anybody is interested.”

At this point Duke said “Sounds good. Let me see if I can get our leader.”

The United Nations decided to send football hero Pitt Yazoo to meet with the Vorg leader Emile Stanza. The interplanetary leaders came up with a compact which was taken to world counsels on both planets. It was adopted.

While the fate of the Russian women remained an open question, Vorg sent what earthlings would call three-dimensional, interactive videos to earth. Many of those who saw the videos signed up. Their messages back to earth got more recruits, some from married women.

At the signing ceremony Stanza again thanked the earthlings for the service they’d rendered.

“What exactly were those criminals up to?” asked the American President.

“They were intent on taking over Vorg after making weapons of mass destruction with cigarette butts and plastic waste,” explained the Vorg leader. “You saved our pghtx (bacon)” he said gratefully.