Synch Chaos September 2022: Love, Loyalty, and Loss

First of all, our friend and collaborator Rui Carvalho has announced the opening of our Nature Writing Contest for 2022. This is an invitation to submit poems and short stories related to trees, water, and nature conservation between now and the March 2023 deadline. More information and submission instructions here!

Also, our co-editor Kahlil Crawford and I are announcing a Latin culture-themed issue, which will be October’s first issue. Submissions for this are welcome up through the end of September. Kahlil was inspired by the works of Fernando Sorrentino, who sent in a set of stories, one of which is published in this issue. Lorraine Caputo will write the editorial letter for that issue.

Finally, we encourage you to support assistance and education, including literacy classes, for Afghan people in need through RAWA (The Revolutionary Association of Women in Afghanistan). They are looking for people to translate articles from Persian/Pashto into English and to translate the English and Pashto articles on their site into a variety of other languages.

Image c/o Mohamed Mahmoud Hassan

Chimezie Ihekuna continues his half-year countdown to Christmas with a poem about traditional children’s and family celebrations in his homeland of Nigeria. Christopher Bernard also speaks to the change of seasons, describing the early beginning of fall weather in rich but sweltering farmland.

Mahbub turns towards nature as well, describing a couple who finds the beauty of their love reflected in an intricate coral reef and the timelessness of the ocean. Christina Chin and Matthew Defibaugh collaborate on another piece that’s a different sort of look at a couple on the beach.

Tanvir Islam’s poem celebrates the love between a husband and a wife, while Alimam Bolakale sends us a children’s verse style piece on romantic love. John Culp celebrates peace and love in a clever poem.

Gabriel T. Saah urges us all to embrace spiritual love, while Musa Ibrahim gives gentle calls for nurturance in interpersonal and inter-group relationships. Ike Boateng describes a quite eventful month in the life of his community in Ghana.

Photo c/o George Hodan

Md. Nurujjajman relates a tale of obsessive love turned violent, while Abdulbasit Oluwanishola laments the decay of a friendship due to someone’s being distracted by greed.

Faroq Faisal renders the motifs of a children’s story with talking animals into a meditation on betrayal from those we hope to help. R.P. Verlaine narrates the common barroom tragedies of love lost and promises broken.

Jaylan Salah’s review of John Crowley’s film Brooklyn explores a love story through the lens of the Irish immigrant protagonist’s search for home and belonging.

Shaurya Pathania’s poems show people desperate to assert themselves one way or another, calling out to the lonely road or to empty sets of clothes.

Photo c/o Mohamed Mahmoud Hassan

Sanjeev Sethi’s new poetry collection Wrappings in Bespoke, reviewed by Cristina Deptula, deals with aging and fitting into our world through intellectual thought. Preacher Allgood also addresses the physicality of aging through a poem about traveling with an old car and an old body.

Ian Copestick highlights a sad irony of life with chronic illness, the imprecision of our current mental health treatments and the awkwardness of life within a body. J.J. Campbell’s poems relate the wisdom and cynicism that come with age.

Akinmade Zeal’s vignette presents a father who still believes in the importance of traditional ways of raising one’s social position and a son who’s more world-weary.

Sayani Mukherjee finds joy in her incarnate experience, writing of the sensual joys of eating a juicy peach.

Photo c/o Andrea Stockel

Michael Pollentine speaks of the stages of death, both personal and ecological. Jack Galmitz’ pieces praise commitment to social/ecological ideals while examining the element of showmanship present even in sincere heroism.

Mesfakus Salahin celebrates Bangladesh’s independence and its historical founder, and thus his own national and personal identity. Marjona Jurakulova outlines the contributions of Islamic Uzbek scientists and philosophers to world history and encourages her home country to continue fostering research and knowledge.

Jeff Crouch and Diana Magallon’s mixed media piece renders the disintegration caused by war into a grayscale surrealist film. Meanwhile, Ubali Ibrahim Hashimu hopes for the ultimate victory of peace over political and racial conflict.

Michael Ceraolo’s short sketches of stage plays speak to broad social and economic justice ideas, while Fernando Sorrentino’s drama presents “justice of the lambs” inflicted by the wronged weak banding together against the strong and cruel.

Image c/o Jean Beaufort

Christ Keivom evokes memory and the detritus of past lives and loves. Abubakar Auwal grieves at the loss of a dear mother and seeks to turn back time. Jim Meirose presents a stagelike drama that portrays a certain character through a loose drama about the “funeral business.”

WV Sutra remembers a singular character who cared about words and ideas and music, who marched to his own drummer.

Image c/o Victoria Borodinova

Federico Wardal celebrates invention and genius through an article on the rediscovery of an old and anonymous play written as a tribute to Shakespeare’s ingenuity.

Dr. James Tipton, English professor at the College of Marin, also explores creativity by reviewing poet and novelist Mary Mackey’s book about her poetry, Creativity: Where Poems Begin. She offers a sober, realistic look at poetic inspiration, not from impairment, suffering, or chaos, but from thought and observation.

Christina Chin’s second poetic collaboration, with Uchechukwu Onyedikam, touches on ancient history and spirituality. J.D. Nelson contributes some more wordy experiments while Mark Young continues to work with dramatic line and color.

Essay from broadcaster Ike Boat

Ike Boateng
Title: MARS

	Factually, nature’s precipitation of down-pour ie(Rains) either becomes beneficial to living things or other-wise when it torrential trend becomes negative effect to others in world of diverse natural disasters. Well, these past few months have left indelible marks on the minds of many individuals, precisely those in the south-western part of the nation, Ghana in West Africa. Indeed, I have been a witness of its happenings coupled with some unbearable circumstances and conditions. The worse experience of deluge on suburban community of Amanful West on 15th June, 2022 as it continues to live folks on tenterhooks due to annual occurrence of heavy rains in the Western Region of Ghana.

	
Reader, this particular piece entitled MARS! It definitely sounds to have connection with or like the Planetary System when it comes to the study of such heavenly bodies, thus being one of the nine planets, specifically the fourth called Mars which is after earth in relation to their order of position, viz the following alphabets in brackets as quiz for you. (M, V, E, M, J, S, U, N, P). Obviously, MARS in this context is the chosen acronym which in full describes or states My August Reflections Story. It realistic recollections as Synchronized Chaos International Magazine - SCIM Submission centered on high-lights of activities or programs which I directly and indirectly got involved in the city of Takoradi, Western Region of Ghana. Truly, still being here all these periods is primarily due to significant studio recording sessions in terms of music and other minor voice-over services. However, the following brings to bear sequential order of activities as far as MARS is concerned. 

	On Sunday, 7th August, 2022 - It’s the final funeral rites of Mr. Joseph Antwi Boateng, who’s popularly known as 1K among the folks and friends of Amanful West community where he served as honourable Assemblyman in times past. Graciously, it’s well organized and attended final funeral rites as first one held at Kumasi in the Ashanti Region of Ghana. This event saw many New Patriotic Party - NPP distinguished ladies and gentlemen as well as other individuals from various political and entrepreneurial backgrounds in attendance. It’s first ever funeral rites I’ve had to support as MC on microphone in this suburban community of up-bringing in Takoradi. i.e.(Amanful West). There’s period of music play, dance as well as cordial interactions, food and drinks sharing to attendees from all walks of lives. Generously, some donated to help the cost of organizing such events as a means of paying last respect to the demise of Mr. Joseph Antwi Boateng, A.K.A 1K. 

Breakthrough Family Ministries International* Miracle Crusade 
One key relative, who traveled all the way from the United Kingdom to support, is Mr. George Adu Boahen, who’s first Assembly-man of the Amanful suburban community. Indeed, in retrospect it’s time of celebration and merry-making among many of the attendees as he made it crystal clear folks should rejoice when he passes away. Later on, in the evening it’s time on Gospel Train with Mr. Gabi Ampiah as the Prime Host and I being Regular Guest as well Co-Host courtesy Radio Maxx 105.1 FM. The following Sunday, 14th August, 2022 around 9am its Body of Christ visitation at a local assembly called Amanful Methodist Church - AMC as a means of follow-up moment due to music video shoot application letter sent there in order to work on motion pictures of the Gabbatha To Golgotha #GTG Single Project. Indeed, it’s interactively first timer introduction as I was given microphone to express myself a bit. After the church service, I was invited to have discourse centered on the request letter to the pastoral leadership. Aside, there’s series of memorable pictures at the temple-auditorium.
Time on “Gospel Train”
On Monday morning, 15th August, 2022 there’s significant spirit-led moment of preaching aftermath song ministration on the street junction of Amanful West as I was invited by Evangelist Isaac Mantey, the undiluted straight on point scriptures preacher. It’s time of singing along the long awaited song dubbed Gabbatha To Golgotha #GTG Single which is still on-going through professional studio production by Mr. Sylvester Brandsford - the Director as well Sound Engineer in charge of Sly Studio located at Anaji, suburban community of Takoradi, Western Region of Ghana. Indeed, it’s thankful heart of worship songs unto the Lord respectively. Praise to God, Halleluiah! Well, suffix it to state (say), that’s often engaged in thus, Ministration Of Songs On The Street #MOSOTS
Amanful Methodist Church
On Friday night 19th August, 2022 - It’s time of crusade attendance as open-air program made possible by the leadership of Breakthrough Family Ministries International #BFMI led by Bishop Samuel Osei Tutu as apostolic, prophetic and evangelistic head of spiritual affairs in relation to Scriptures. Well, before being present in the evening I attended another event at Akroma Plaza which had Honourable Kenneth Ohene Agyapong as the Prime Speaker, hence he shared his rich entrepreneurial ideas as well know-how with multitudes of attendees who filled both upper and lower space of the auditorium.  
Life Time Achievement Citation To Legendary *Shasha Marley* 
The outline of program of commenced 9am to 1pm but many stayed longer on the aftermath. On the following day which happened to be 20th August, 2022. It’s another attendance of the 6th Western Music Awards #WMA for which I accompanied the legendary Shasha Marley, an Old Saint together with two others at the Best Plus Atlantic Hotel in Takoradi, Western Region of Ghana. The night had both low and highs of happenings but its entirely memorable one as the living legendary Shasha Marley was given Life-Time Achievement Citation Award in honour of his contribution to the music of western origin and global influences through his stage crafts. Remarkably, the creatively designed citation board was handed over to him by the Member of Parliarment for Takoradi as well Western Regional Minister in the personality of Honourable Kwabena Okyere Darko Mensah. 
Performance Of *Shasha Marley* #WMA 
Well, Thanks for making time to read this My August Reflection Story #MARS.

Ike Boat
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Poetry from John Culp

Restful Peace 
   If I could hold a 
        thought 

       My 
         Own 
            Self
               Be True 

Given Ours 
    in the sky 

Day's Be-holding 
    The Sun 
        And the 
      Moon 
in the same GRASP 

LOVE heard my Word 
        &   &   I don't care, 

  there's more where
          that came 
              from.
                 ♡
               LOVE 

        Stillness cool &
          Dark   as the 
            Dim will 
              Soon 
               Come
                Before 
                 the Light 

Essay from Marjona Jurakulova

Marjona Jurakulova 
Did you know? Uzbekistan is the science capital of the world!

Science is the primary driving force behind any country's development. It is not an exaggeration to say that evaluating a state's development through the development of science is very appropriate. The advancement of science is an important step toward Uzbekistan's prosperity and stability. It is not for nothing that the state is responsible for society's scientific and technological development. 

Respect for science has been a tradition in Uzbek society throughout history. As our great grandfather, Imam Bukhari, once said, "There is no salvation in the world except knowledge, and without knowledge there will be no salvation." The relevance of this phrase has increased, not decreased, over time. This golden saying seems to have been spoken for today and for all time. 

Today's rapid development has helped meet humanity's basic needs. Science is as essential as water and air. No one can deny that diving to the depths of the oceans and conquering the universe is a product of science today. The human mind grows with knowledge. A knowledgeable person assesses events objectively and learns to reject ignorance and stubbornness. Inadvertent ignorance is not a sin; however, refusing to learn is. 

According to Ibn Mas'ud, knowing what one does not know is also knowledge. Because when a person realizes what he does not know, he seeks to learn. 

Our forefathers made an important contribution to history by immortalizing the Middle Ages as an Eastern Renaissance in gold letters on the pages of history. They are moving in many directions. 

There have been no equals to Imam Bukhari in terms of preserving historical Islamic teachings, to Burhanuddin Marginani in jurisprudence, to Abu Mansur Moturidi in theology, and to Imam Zamakhshari in Islamic linguistics. Nor to Alisher Navoi in Uzbek literature and philosophy, Ibn Sina in medicine, or to Abu Rayhan Beruni and Mirza Ulugbek in physics, mathematics, history, and astronomy. The list could go on and on.

Knowledge has always triumphed over ignorance, just as good has triumphed over evil, and justice has triumphed over injustice. 

Willful ignorance is condemned in Islam. Ignorance destroys our lives and our relationships. Enlightenment cleans the heart, enhances our spirituality, and brings glory.

Because of these teachings, our great grandfathers made incomparable contributions to the advancement of world science. The rich spiritual legacy they left behind is still read and researched  in the world's most prestigious higher educational institutions. For example, in the field of medicine, Abu Ali Ibn Sina's "Medical Laws" is being studied with great interest in European countries, whereas Burkhaniddin Marginani's "Hidaya" has gained great fame in the Islamic world as an important source of Islamic jurisprudence.

The names of great scholars such as Beruni, Khorezmi, Ibn Sina, and Ulugbek are well known throughout the world for their invaluable contributions to the advancement of science. The Islamic world continues to be fascinated by the works of scholars such as Imam Bukhari, Imam Termini, Abu Lais Samarkand, Burhoniddin Marginani, and Imam Moturidi. They elevated Islamic teachings to the level of science, according to contemporary Muslim scholars.

Every year, a significant portion of the Republic of Uzbekistan's state budget is spent on social expenses such as education and science. More than 239 billion dollars were allocated from the country's budget in 2021 solely for the support of innovative development and innovative ideas, as well as for the design, construction (reconstruction), and equipment of facilities.

This will be more than 671 billion dollars, or 0.39% of state budget expenses, in 2022. 28 scientific organizations and four innovative technological parks have been established in the last four years. Scientists' salaries have tripled. A lot of money was spent on updating industry organizations' material and technical bases. The Academy of Sciences of Uzbekistan, which includes 28 scientific research institutions and four state museums, has increased its activity as an important participant in the state scientific research policy.

The establishment of the Ministry of Innovative Development of the Republic of Uzbekistan in 2017 was a significant step toward organizing the development and implementation of innovative ideas and technologies. In particular, 342 scientific developments were commercialized with direct Ministry support from 2018 to 2021. As a result, products worth 151.2 billion dollars were produced, and products worth 128.7 billion dollars were sold.

In general, the legal precedent for improving the system of state support for science and innovation has been established in recent years. In particular, in the period 2018-2021, two laws, five decrees, 26 decisions of the President, 35 decisions, and seven orders of the Cabinet of Ministers were adopted in the field of scientific and innovative activities. This has a direct impact on the resolution of current social problems. The Concept of Development of Science Until 2030, approved by Decree of the President of the Republic of Uzbekistan No. PF-6097 of October 29, 2020, identified 19 problems on the path to scientific development.

Among these are the fact that large sectors of the economy pay little attention to science, the average age of teams conducting scientific research is quite old and the researchers are nearing retirement, and there is insufficient allocation of financial resources to science and scientific activities. Solving these issues is critical and necessitates comprehensive and thought-out solutions.

Knowledge can help us overcome disasters. Haji Bektash Vali once said, "The path taken in ignorance will not end well." Those who want to win, succeed, and rise must rely on knowledge. "Let the world learn science," said the Prophet. May God bless him and grant him peace. 

"Whoever wants the hereafter, let him learn knowledge," said the Prophet, may God bless him and grant him peace, who explained the importance of knowledge.

Science education is not limited to the classroom. A person receives a key from school. With the key, the person unlocks the treasures of knowledge. Whatever he or she does, he or she does it enthusiastically.

Throwing away your notebook in a corner as soon as you graduate from high school is a big mistake. Learning, on the other hand, has no age, time, or place. Knowledge is the most valuable investment, and you can increase your investment at every age, every location, and every time. Learn more about yourself. You may encounter difficulties. You will face some challenges, but remember that nothing worthwhile comes easily.

A true intellectual does not base his or her decisions on hearsay. First, he or she carefully studies, thinks about, and acts on the truth.

A true intellectual understands that learning is a means to an end, not an end in itself. He or she applies his knowledge to the benefit of humanity. The goal of studying is to help others. Science is only valuable and useful if it benefits humanity. No matter how useful knowledge is, it is useless if it is not put into practice.

Science improves people and makes them more admirable. The goal of science is self-awareness. It is useful in the sense that it helps us to understand ourselves.

Marjona Jurakulova 
Chairman of the Council of Young Advisors under 
the Youth Affairs Agency of the Republic of Uzbekistan, 
student of the Pedagogical Institute of Shahrisabz State University
marjonakhanumjurakulova@gmail.com

Short story from Fernando Sorrentino

Chastisement by the Lambs
(La Corrección de los Corderos)

     According to very diverse -- and always very reliable -- sources, the 'Chastisement by the Lambs' is becoming increasingly common in several parts of Buenos Aires and the surrounding area. 

     All reports agree in their description of the Chastisement: suddenly, fifty white lambs appear -- you could say 'out of the blue' -- and immediately charge towards their victim, obviously chosen beforehand. In a few short seconds they devour the person, leaving only a skeleton. As suddenly as they arrived, they then disperse -- and pity anyone who tries to block their escape! Many fatal cases were recorded early on, before prospective heroes learned from the fate of their predecessors. These days, no one dares oppose the Chastisement. 

     There is little point in going into the details of the phenomenon -- everybody is largely aware of the facts thanks to the media, and photographic and video documentation is widely available. Nevertheless, the majority of people are worried by the Chastisement and its consequences. The majority of people, however, are simple, they lack education and the power of reflection, and their concern is limited to a desire that the Chastisement did not exist. Of course, this desire does not put an end to the Chastisement and certainly does not help to determine its causes or raison d'être. 

     These people's basic mistake is that, as immersed as they are in the facts of the Chastisement itself, they have forgotten the victims. During, say, the first one hundred executions, what kept me awake at night was the irrefutable existence of lambs that were not only carnivores but predators -- and of human flesh at that. Later, however, I observed that by concentrating on those details I had been neglecting something essential: the victims' personality. 

     So I began investigating the lives of the deceased. Borrowing my methodology from sociologists, I started with the most elementary: the socio-economic data. Statistics turned out to be useless, the victims came from all social and economic strata. 

     I decided to change the focus of my investigation. I searched for friends and relatives and eventually managed to extract the pertinent information from them. Their statements were varied and sometimes contradictory, but gradually I began to hear a certain type of phrase more and more frequently: "Let the poor man rest in peace, but the truth is that ..." 

     I had a sudden and almost irresistible insight into the situation and was almost completely sure of my germinal hypothesis the day the Chastising Lambs devoured my prosperous neighbour, Dr. P.R.V., the same person in whose office ... but I will come to that. 

     In an absolutely natural way, P.R.V.'s case lead me to the definitive understanding of the enigma. 

*

     The truth is, I hated Nefario -- and while I would not want the base passion of my hate to pollute the cold objectivity of this report, nonetheless, in order to provide a full explanation of the phenomenon, I feel obliged to allow myself a digression of a personal nature. Although it may not interest anyone, this diversion is essential -- as long as I am believed -- for people to judge the veracity of my hypothesis concerning the conditions necessary to trigger the Chastisement by the Lambs. 

     Here is the digression: 

     The fact is, the climax of the Chastisement coincided with a lugubrious period in my life. Troubled by poverty, by disorientation, by grief, I felt I was at the bottom of a deep, dark well, and incapable of imagining any way out. That is how I felt. 

     Nefario meanwhile ... well, as they say, life smiled at him, and naturally so since the only objective of his wicked existence was money. That was his only concern -- earning money -- money for itself -- and toward this holy purpose he concentrated all his merciless energy without regard for others. Needless to say, he was overwhelmingly successful. Nefario truly was what you would call a 'winner'. 

     At that time -- I have already said this -- I found myself in a very needy situation. It is so easy to take advantage of anyone who is suffering! Nefario -- that greedy vulture who had never read a book -- was an editor. For want of better things to do, I used to undertake some translation and proofreading jobs for him. Nefario not only paid me a pittance but also took pleasure in humiliating me with excuses and delays. 

      (Suffering abuse and failure was already part of my persona, and I was resigned to them.) 

     When I delivered to him my latest batch of work -- an awkward and hideous translation -- Nefario, as on so many other occasions, said to me: 

     "Unfortunately, I am unable to pay you today. Haven't got a penny."

     He told me this while in his lavish office, well dressed, smelling of perfume and with a smile on his face. And of course, as a 'winner'. I thought of my cracked shoes, my worn clothes, my family's urgent needs, my burden of pain. With effort, I said: 
     
     "And when do you think ...?" 

     "Let's do this," his tone was optimistic and protective, as if he were trying to help me. "I can't do this Saturday, because I am taking a short break on the Rio beaches. But the following one, around eleven in the morning, come to my house and we will settle this little account." 

     He shook my hand cordially and gave me a friendly and encouraging pat on the shoulder. 

     A fortnight went by. The yearned-for Saturday arrived, and so did I at the beautiful 11 de Septiembre Street. The green of the trees, the smell of vegetation, the radiance of the sky and the beauty of the district all made me feel even more desolate. 

     At five past eleven I rang the bell.

     "The master is resting," I was told by a maid in uniform.
 
     I hesitated a moment and said:

     "And the lady of the house?"
 
     "Who is it, Rosa?" I heard someone ask.
 
     "It's me, madam." I raised my voice, clinging to the possibility: "Is mister Nefario at home?" 

     Rosa went inside and was replaced by the cosmetic-covered face of Nefario's wife. In a tone that reminded me of a heavy, cigar-smoking tycoon, she enquired: 

     "Haven't you been told that the master is taking his rest?" 

     "Yes, madam, but we had an appointment at eleven ..." 

     "Yes, but he is resting just now," she replied in an unappealable manner. 

     "Might he have left something for me?" I asked stupidly, as if I did not know Nefario! 

     "No." 

     "But we had an appointment at ..." 

     "I am telling you, he did not leave anything, sir. Please don't be annoying, sir." 

     At that moment I heard a jabbering, bleating sound and witnessed the arrival of the Chastisement by the Lambs. I moved to one side and, so as to be more secure, climbed the fence, although my conscience told me that the Chastisement was not searching for me. Like a tornado, the lambs burst into the front garden and, before the last ones could arrive, those in the lead were already inside the house. 

     In a few seconds, like a drain swallowing water from a sink, Nefario's door absorbed all the animals, leaving the garden trampled, the plants destroyed. 

     Through an exquisitely designed window, Mrs. Nefario appeared:

     "Come, sir, come!" she pleaded tearfully, her face congested. Please help us, sir! 

     Out of a certain sense of curiosity I went in. I saw the furniture overturned, mirrors broken. I could not see the lambs.
 
     "They are upstairs!" I was informed by Mrs. Nefario as she pulled me in the direction of the danger. "They are in our room! Do something, don't be a coward, behave like a man!" 

     I managed to resist, firmly. Nothing could be more against my principles than to oppose the Chastisement by the Lambs. A confused cacophony of hooves could be heard coming from upstairs. The round, woolly backs could be seen shaking happily, accompanied by some forceful movements aimed at an unseen object within the mass. For one fleeting moment, I perceived Nefario; it was only for a second: dishevelled and horrified, he shouted something and tried to attack the lambs with a chair. However, he soon sunk into the white, curly wools like someone violently swallowed by quicksand. There was another centrical commotion and the growing noise of jaws tearing and crushing, and every now and then the thin, sharp noise of a bone being cracked. Their first withdrawal manoeuvres told me that the lambs had accomplished their task and soon after the little animals started their swift descent of the stairs. I could see some bloodstains in the otherwise unpolluted whiteness of their wool. 

     Curiously, that blood -- to me a symbol of ethical affirmation -- caused Mrs. Nefario to loose all reason. Still addressing me with tearful insults and telling me that I was a coward, she irrupted in the living room with a large knife in her hands. As I knew very well the fate of those who attempted to obstruct the Chastisement by the Lambs, I respectfully remained in the background while observing the short and remarkable spectacle of the dismemberment and ingestion of Mrs. Nefario. Afterwards, the fifty lambs reached 11 de Septiembre Street and, as on many other occasions, they escaped by dispersing into the city. 

     Rosa -- I do not know why -- seemed a little impressed. I called out a few comforting words to her before, free of hate, saying good-bye to the girl with a smile. 

     It is true: I had not and would not manage to obtain from Nefario the payment for that awkward and hideous translation. Nevertheless, the green of the trees, the smell of vegetation, the radiance of the sky and the beauty of the district filled my heart with joy. I started to sing. 
   
     I knew then that the dark well into which I had sunk was beginning to be lit up with the first rays of hope. 

     Chastisement by the Lambs: I thank you. 

[From: En defensa propia, Buenos Aires, Editorial de Belgrano, 1982.]
-
Translated from the Spanish by Gustavo Artiles and Alex Patterson.

Read Fernando’s bio HERE.

Fernando Sorrentino

Poetry from Chimezie Ihekuna

Chimezie Ihekuna (Mr. Ben) Young Black man in a collared shirt and jeans resting his head on his hand. He's standing outside a building under an overhang.
Chimezie Ihekuna
My Parents’ Promises for Me This Christmas 

It's seven days to Christmas
I’m so excited about it!
I will be on holiday;
free from school activities and other disturbing tasks in class
I will have the opportunity to remind my parents their promises for me;

the amusement park, the holiday resorts around and outside town
and lots more!
I will play with my friends
I will put on my favorite Cloth of Many Colors dress
I will help mom and dad decorate our house,
provided they give me what they promised, seven days before.


Poetry from Christ Keivom


Where the wilderness is now, a house once was

Look there— where the branches are twisted
Together like arms of a contortionist
You’d think it was the shade of
Two trees instead of one
Until you look closer and follow the roots
Right there— at the towering branches 
Was a window and a boy looked out of it.
His life passes now. Time washes over youth.
And it has cut a canyon through his heart
Which deepens year after year.
Soon the water will disappear into the ground
And time will wash his youth away.
Over there— across the prairie you can also count
One, two, perhaps, three trees he used to climb 
Walk there—
And you can ask each leaf and blade of grass
On the way home 
To tell you his name.  




A Love Poem

After John Ashbery

And they were right to have said it.
We just need a little love, and when the little 
Things fall as soft, salt, sobs on your lips 
Does it taste, how it does, at the start 
Of a kiss? (Maybe not the first, but surely the last) 
They say, you think each time it happens 

Again and again, how it thrills the twist 
And turn of your thoughts, how it reflects 
In long hmms and self- neurosis. Considering this 
And that, slowly probing the what ifs and nots.
There is no escape for me, from it. I think 
I mean, the thought of you—
 
With me is so quite a new dream, is 
Itself the night and the body and the 
Body in the night, the dreaming of you;
Intimate as a touch which I feel 
As it feels me, this is how it works 
Just like this, very see-saw like. 




Note for the previous tenant 

Thank you for the things disowned: 
The roll of toilet paper, the bar of soap
The straw-broom and the floor mop. 

I tried to scrub the floor clean as a face!
Found it to be undoable,
And realised you had tried, too. 

The landlord says you lived here
For years. But nobody had seen your face. 
You were like a stranger’s name read from 

An envelope. Like those birthdates of people 
Carved on park benches and trees, who I know 
So little about as do I of my own past. 

So, the black hair in the sink
Gives a clue to… what? Were you 
A man or woman? The question persists… what?

This handprint on the knob. Whose is it?
Did someone sit outside the door, 
Waiting for you to return from work.

Made the bed. Then dreamt next to you.
Only to wake in the night and say—
“But dear, I’m not sleepy at all” 

How often did you dance on the floor?
The place was done and broomed. Your life
As it were, a sudden wind that had swept away. 



September

The day we discovered love was the
The day it had also been there all along,
Waiting to be noticed in the background we
Recede into so heedlessly. In Delhi, everything 
And everyone is moving in the same direction. 
Notice, how the streets are overfull with people;
But their eyes are empty like tea cups.

In bookstores, like nascent flowers on wet days
Pages open with the thrill of new beginnings 
But in the gardens, we’ve got the butterflies 
Going at it; dancing in courtship before 

Our eyes like kissing teenagers 
In teeming metros, unembarrassed by PDA.
It must be autumn then, when what woos our 
Keatsian heart is in the air which consumes us with… what? 
What was it again… beauty? To rebreathe life 
Into what once was touched and identified here  

Before it went to cold sleep under a rock.
Too much with lovers and too little with love—
The world gives us just as much as one does to a beggar.
Here, take it. Now, go away. How much time until 
We find our other half is hard to say but, instant as 
The camera’s shutter when it imprisons reality 
Is how instant we’re going to have to capture the present.

As the canopy of overhanging trees reddens into the eye
Of a setting sun. A new season writes itself in the rain
Reminding us -life is ever wheeling, faster and faster 
With the air which stirs our world like memory. 
Like the future. Like history.