Synchronized Chaos Mid-November: The World That Dwarfs and Outlasts Us

We continue to express sorrow over what’s happening in so many different parts of the world and encourage our readers to support people and the planet.

Woman staring straight ahead with a large butterfly on top of her head with open wings.

Also, we are hosting our Metamorphosis gathering again! This is a chance for people to share music, art, and writing and to dialogue across different generations (hence the name, the concept of ideas morphing and changing over the years). So far photographer Rebecca Kelly and English/Spanish bilingual poet Bridgett Rex are part of the lineup and more are welcome! This event is also a benefit for the grassroots Afghan women-led group RAWA, which is currently supporting educational and income generation and literacy projects in Afghanistan as well as assisting earthquake survivors. (We don’t charge or process the cash, you are free to donate online on your own and then attend!)

This will be Sunday, December 31st, 2-4 pm in the fellowship hall of Davis Lutheran Church at 317 East 8th Street in Davis, California. It’s a nonreligious event open to all, the church has graciously allowed us to use the meeting room.

You may sign up here for event reminders. RSVP appreciated but not required.

This issue draws us into a full sensory experience, surrounding us with places and worlds larger and more vast than ourselves.

Vernon Frazer’s pieces rumble with a smorgasbord of rhythmic and clanging instruments and sounds while Joshua Martin sends up a plethora of sonic syllables. Mahbub Alam stares and contemplates the beauty of nature and the Taj Mahal. Christina Poythress highlights through tactile details the rich nightlife within the world’s soil. Kathleen Hulser draws on mathematical concepts as metaphors for how life changes affect and circumscribe our lives.

Taj Mahal. White stone building with a central arched entrance and rounded brick dome, other smaller ones to the side. Four minarets to the side in the front, tall white brick towers with a lookout point for the call to prayer. Grass and rows of trees and a rectangular pool in front.

Image c/o Jean Beaufort

Jim Meirose illuminates the sensory experience of playing outside on the grass on a nice sunny day while Lorraine Caputo wanders off trail in South America: evenings, out-of-the-way streets, and less crowded areas.

Rafiul Islam speculates on inter-planetary relations in a society where multiple sentient species inhabit multiple planets.

Bekzod Quodirov outlines ways to make ammonium nitrate safer and more stable as a fertilizer and an industrial tool.

Older fisherman in a striped sweater and hat in a small wooden shelter by the side of a lake with some trees. Poles are in the water.

Uruguayan countryside, fisherman, photo c/o Juan Carlos Gonzalez

Even our own, more human-scale worlds contain more detail that we often grasp at first glance.

Sophia Fastaia remembers the joy, wonder, comfort and danger of childhood, all in one birthday party.

Chloe Schoenfeld’s piece probes opposites and finding and befriending one’s shadow self. Pascal Lockwood-Villa surveys a vacation in the tropics through the lens of photos that reflect different dimensions of human nature.

Susan Hodara details the common sensory experience of drying off after a shower while J.D. Nelson observes daily life and snacks within a homeless shelter.

Philip Butera describes with sensory details the underside of a circus after the show, referencing the work of repackaging the illusion.

Duane Vorhees’ work explores coupling and fertility from several big-picture spiritual and grounded, natural angles. Aklima Ankhi describes the search for an intense emotional connection with a lover that goes beyond the fleeting happiness of the everyday.

Slavica Pejovic ponders love, closeness, completeness, and connection. Aasma Tahir rhapsodizes about the subconscious worlds of nighttime, romance, and the imagination. Kristy Ann Raines describes the intense emotional experiences of love lost and regained.

Surreal image of stars at night and a wooden pier over water.

Image c/o Andrea Stockel

While our universe can be glorious, it can also be tragic, with forces beyond our control.

Ari Nystrom-Rice reflects on the fragility of his knowledge and sense of place in his world through the metaphor of a child’s toy boat exposed to the elements.

Nilufar Ergasheva illustrates the dangers of the winter season in rural villages, with cold and wild animals on the prowl, while Christopher Bernard renders appendicitis and surgery into poetry.

Mykyta Ryzhykh probes where we can find meaning and tenderness in a war-ravaged world where death seems frequent and life seems meaningless. Atagulla Satbaev shares how we delude ourselves into thinking love is eternal: time and death separate everyone. Michael Lee Johnson reflects on his own mortality and attempts to find eternal love in living death, rather than in the capriciousness of life.

Graciela Noemi Villaverde’s piece renders grief into somnambulant surrealism, a panoply of dream images while Alden Joe evokes the pain of lost love with imagery of tigers and predation. Suleiman Gado Mansir sends up a surreal dream sequence illustrating how our minds attempt to process the world’s violence.

Wallpaper image of tigers with black, orange, and tan swaths of color against a green grass background.

Image c/o Circe Denyer

Sometimes, we wonder what place we have in such a large world. Will the universe overwhelm and consume us?

Alma Ryan explores the season of fall with a meditation on falling, death, and the ways we let ourselves go. J.J. Campbell’s work turns solemn this month as he ponders various kinds of death and forms of passing away.

Zahro Shamsiyya reflects on the brevity of life and the need to savor the experience. Jerry Langdon reflects on the changing of seasons and the passing of a friend.

Gabriel Flores Benard shows the tragic ways continued abuse can shape a still-forming personality.

Even apart from mortality and injustice, everyday human psychology can be a mysterious and unmapped landscape.

Light skinned woman in a black jacket holding her head in her hands and yelling. She's in front of spiderwebs and a large rusting metal pillar at twilight.

Image c/o Kai Stachowiak

Zosia Mosur illustrates how we sculpt and train and also harm and punish our physical selves.

Taylor Dibbert’s speaker speculates on what his midlife decades will bring, while Noah Berlatsky highlights the common human experience of procrastination and Shirley Smothers relates her efforts to maintain inner peace.

Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna laments that real life can’t be like the novels she reads. Azemina Krehic compares herself to a linden tree and wishes she possessed its strength, but finds herself instead in the tree’s biological complexity.

Yet, we as humans do not have to be passive in the face of such a large and grand universe. There are roles we can play, even as individuals, that allow us selfhood and transcendence.

Diyora Abdujabborova’s reflects on the value of women’s leadership and nurturing roles in Uzbek society. Anila Bukhari speaks to the earnest desire of girls living in poverty to get an education.

Young girl with short curly hair, a white collared shirt, and blue suspenders standing in front of other children of different genders and ages and a brick building. She's outside with trees on a sunny day.

Image c/o Gerd Altmann

Christina Chin and Uchechukwu Onyedikam collaborate on haikus that are translated into English, Taiwanese, and Igbo and highlight moments of people collaborating with nature. Nery Santos Gomez illustrates the joy she takes moving in unison while riding a beloved horse.

Daniel De Culla’s photography focuses on low-key ways we alter or adjust our environment: clothes, sketches, bushes we plant. Isabel Gomez de Diego illustrates moments where nature (small children and plants) integrates into our built environments.

Sayedur Rahman demonstrates the resilience and strength of refugees creating new lives in their new homelands. Jacques Fleury asserts his place in the world as a Black man, self confident even in spaces not created with him in mind.

Christina Chin and Paul Callus also collaborate on further haikus translated into English, Mandarin and Maltese that celebrate the mastery of crafts: cooking and painting.

Annie Johnson speaks to the transcendent immortality she finds through stepping out of herself to create art that will outlast her.

Mark Young reflects on the values and accomplishments of his Boomer generation in terms of shaping society while questioning the uses of similar government power today.

Z.I. Mahmud outlines Jane Eyre’s character growth and self-assertion in Charlotte Bronte’s novel while Shokirova Zarnigor Shuhratjanovna urges patience for people seeking the meaning of their lives.

Stylized image of a four story mansion at twilight with lights on, leafless winter trees, and pumpkins and zombies dancing in front of the house. Ghosts are in the background.

Image c/o Linnaea Mallette

Orzigul Sherova shares how she learned to draw on her fantasies as an inspiration rather than as a way to avoid achieving her real-world goals.

In Nahyean Bin Khalid’s take on a haunted mansion horror tale, his protagonist frees undead souls trapped in the home, but stays to become their caretaker rather than escaping, getting killed, or kicking the ghosts out.

Maja Milojkovic’s piece encourages us to heal and move forward from grief. Nilufar Rukhillayeva’s translation of Erkin Vahidov’s Uzbek poem points to a larger societal step forward, the passage of time and renewal that comes with the New Year.

Jaylan Salah reviews Daniel Radcliffe’s new HBO show The Boy who Lived, about David Holmes, his stunt double who became paralyzed after an injury on set and who worked with quiet courage and dignity to rebuild his life.

Even if our places in the universe are relatively small in the grand scheme of things, it matters how we fill our places because our behavior and choices affect those around us.

Image of Saturn with rings on a neon green and black background with lightning, the moon and palm trees and waterfalls

Image c/o Daniel Sanchez

Rasheed Olayemi’s poem demonstrates how corruption at both individual and governmental levels weakens a country’s economy.

Daniel De Culla calls out the hypocrisy of people who focus more on looking good at charity balls rather than helping others, especially in wartime.

Mesfakus Salahin’s narrators are wise beyond their years in terms of their ability to love and respect and connect with other people. Salahin urges adult world leaders to hold to that level of maturity.

Elmaya Jabbarova urges the world to wake up and turn back towards life and justice.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa fondly remembers her low-tech but fun childhood visits to her grandparents’ country town, and urges compassion for those with HIV/AIDS.

Family, culture, love, and heritage can be vital to grounding us and giving us the strength to withstand a rough universe.

Stone carving of Lord Shiva dancing with his many arms and his family, including Lord Ganesha with the elephant head.

Image c/o Rajesh Misra

Aziza Gayratova expresses respect for her parents and the strength family love gives her to endure life’s injustices.

Wazed Abdullah reminds us of how essential love and caring is to life while Faleeha Hassan speaks to a mother’s wish to protect her son during wartime in her poem, translated by William Hutchins.

Shahnoza Ochildiyeva offers up a colorful paean to her native Uzbekistan while Yahya Azeroglu pays tribute to Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey.

Fahim relates a story of courage and loyalty among Bangladeshi soldiers at the country’s founding.

Finally, to come back to nature and the vast universe outside of our own species, Brian Barbeito reflects on the wisdom of nature to outlast humanity. He also considers how mysterious the sea remains, even after millennia of sailing.

Poetry from Kathleen Hulser

                 

Interior 64. Chris Kelly

We love to map our lives on geometry. Work is a grid of many discrete boxes. Play is the tangent refreshing the unpredictable impulse. Romance is a Venn diagram where overlap turbocharges the heart. Friendship plots to X and Y where the point of intersection undulates in the great sine curve of closeness. Aging is an arc bending towards infinity. Fibonacci numbers shape our thoughts into graceful proportions, an echo chamber of golden ratios. The fractals of enthusiasm bump against the paisley of tenderness. Euclid and Pythagoras made the body Earth’s measure, and Nature harmonizes our internal geometry.

####

Kathleen Hulser is a poet, writer and public historian who lives in the Bronx and Connecticut, and has participated in many public art projects and activist groups as well as curating history exhibitions such as Slavery in New York and Petropolis: Urban Animal Companions. 

Poetry from Michael Lee Johnson

Ghost I Am (V2)

Middle aged man of indeterminate race behind translucent glass holding up his hands to his side and against the glass.

Here is a private hut

staring at me,

twigs & branches

over the top

naked & alone.

I respond to an old 60s doo-wop

song:  In the Still of the Night

Fred Parris and The Satins.

Storms are written in narratives,

old ears closed to a full hearing.

I’m but a shelter cringing.

In age, nightmare pre-warned redemption.

Let’s call it the Jesus factor,

not LGBT symbols in Biden’s world.

I lost my way close to the end.

Here is this shelter in heaven

poetry imagined spaces

prematurely still not all the words fit,

in childhood in abuse

lack of reason for bruises

rough hills, carp that didn’t bite,

and Schwinn bike rides

flat tires, chains fall off, spokes collapse

this thunder, those storms.

Find me a thumbnail

image of myself in centuries of dust.

Stand weakened by nature

of change glossed over, sealed.

Archives.

Old men, like a luxurious battery,

die hard, but with years, they

too, fade away.

California Summer (V2)

Coastal warm breeze

off Santa Monica, California

the sun turns salt

shaker upside down 

and it rains white smog, a humid mist.

No thunder, no lightening,

nothing else to do

except for sashay 

forward into liquid

and swim

into eternal days

like this.

Four Leaf Clover (V5)

Young light skinned woman with long curly red or brown hair in a light purple summer dress in a field of tall white flowers (cotton?)

I found your life smiling

inside a four-leaf clover.

Here you hibernate in sin.

You were dancing in the orange fields of the sun.

You lock into your history, your past, withdrawal,

taste honeycomb, then cow salt lick.

All your life, you have danced in your soft shoes.

Find free lottery tickets in the pockets of poor men and strangers.

Numbers rhyme like winners, but they are just losers.

Positive numbers tug like gray blankets, poor horses coming in 1st.

Private angry walls; desperate is the night.

You control intellect, josser men.

You take them in, push them out,

circle them with silliness.

Everything turns indigo blue in grief.

I hear your voice, fragmented words in thunder.

An actress buried in degrees of lousy weather and blindness.

I leave you alone, wander the prairie path by myself.

Pray for wildflowers, the simple types. No one cares.

Purple colors, false colors, hibiscus on guard,

lilacs are freedom seekers, now no howls in death.

You are the cookie crumble of my dreams.

Three marriages in the past.

I hear you knocking my walls down, heaven stars creating dreams.

Once beautiful in the rainbow sun, my face, even snow

now cast in banners, blank, fire, and flames.

I cycle a self-absorbed nest of words.

Casket of Love (V3)

Two people, one with longer hair and the other with a baseball cap, in black outline, sit on black rocks facing each other. Background is purple and pink and gray like a sunrise or sunset.

This moon, clinging to a cloudless sky,

offers the light by which we love.

In this park, grass knees high, tickling bare feet,

offers the place we pass pleasant smiles.

Sir Winston Churchill would have

saluted the stately manner this fog lifts,

marching in time across this pond

layering its ghostly body over us

cuddled by the water’s edge,

as if we are burdened by this sealed

casket called love.

Frogs in the marsh, crickets beneath the crocuses

trumpet the last farewell.

A flock of Canadian geese flies overhead

in military V formation.

Yet how lively your lips tremble

against my skin in a manner no

sane soldier dare deny.

Older white man with sunglasses, a light green tee shirt, white hair and his right hand on his chin, sitting in a chair with a painting of trees behind him.

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. Today he is a poet in the greater Chicagoland area, IL. He has 295 YouTube poetry videos. Michael Lee Johnson is an internationally published poet in 44 countries, a song lyricist, has several published poetry books, has been nominated for six Pushcart Prize awards, and six Best of the Net nominations. He is editor-in-chief of three poetry anthologies, all available on Amazon, and has several poetry books and chapbooks. He has over 453 published poems. Michael is the administrator of 6 Facebook Poetry groups. Member Illinois State Poetry Society: http://www.illinoispoets.org/.  Remember to consider me for Best of the Net or Pushcart nomination!

Poem from Christopher Bernard

An Ode to My Appendix

O you useless thing! excrescence waggling
at the dead end of the bag of anatomy
that sits like a judge’s wig on the maze of small
snaking intestine, waiting there like a bandit
to trap the unsuspecting on their long journey to the sewer,
and then inflate out of all proportion to sense or nonsense,
cause earthquakes across the belly’s terra firma,
send waves of fever to cloud the imperious mind,
and bring the mighty down over an undigested tomato seed!

O rag of flesh! O slippery traitor! O itchy little Finger of Fate!
O miserable reminder of our weakness and God’s power!
One cannot get rid of you soon enough! 

What a miserable twenty-four hours! Convulsed at 7 pm,
to the hospital next day for hours of tests,
then off to the ER, in suspense among a fluttering crowd
of nurses, MAs, doctors, surgeons, new patients,
then spirited to pre-op and OR, in suspense awaiting the outcome
of two emergency caesarians (women and children first!),
then, the last thing before going under, a glance
at a big clock showing ten minutes to midnight . . . 

No one still knows any reason
an appendix was ever there in the first place. Some say
it had something to do with the “immune system.” I say,
if that case, it was made to help immunize the world from the likes of us!

No, you are probably just one of God’s little jokes: 
to give idle surgeons something to keep their hands busy 
when they don’t have anything better to do on a Friday at midnight.

_____

Christopher Bernard’s collection The Socialist’s Garden of Verses won a PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award and was named one of the “Top 100 Indie Books of 2021” by Kirkus Reviews. His two “tales for children and their adults” – If You Ride A Crooked Trolley . . . and The Judgment Of Biestia – will be available in December 2023.


Poetry from J.D. Nelson

black beans for dinner . . .
I didn’t go outside of
the shelter today

rain on warehouse roof . . .
orange Fanta frenzy at
the homeless shelter

middle of the night . . .
the shelter’s vending machine
declines debit card

sips of a cold Sprite
outside of the laundromat . . .
ambulance sirens

today they will spray
the homeless shelter for bugs—
popcorn in my shoe

bio/graf


J. D. Nelson is the author of ten print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His first full-length collection is in ghostly onehead (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.

Poetry from Azemina Krehic

Young light skinned woman with long brown hair, a black top, a blue and white floral patterned skirt standing amidst a bunch of wooden chairs outside on a lawn. There's a lamppost and a building nearby.
Linden tree

I wish I was as strong and indifferent as the linden tree in my yard.

To let go of the long stamen veins - all the way to the hellish corridors deep in the earth and not be touched by the embers!

And on the surface, let me be mischievous and timid only when you want me to.

You would never be able to understand how much and why my leaves and my impatient flower can flutter.

Azemina Krehić was born on October 14, 1992 in Metković, Republic of Croatia. Winner of several international awards for poetry, including: Award of university professors in Trieste, 2019.,„Mak Dizdar“ award, 2020. Award of the Publishing Foundation of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2021. „Fra Martin Nedić“ Award, 2022. She is represented in several international anthologies of poetry.

Pieces from Jacques Fleury

Young Black man, smiling, with short hair on the top of his head. He's wearing a suit and purple tie.

ReXsume

By Jacques Fleury

[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]

Objective:                   Seeking a position to be over, under or next to someone;

                                    Willing to fill any opening or position…

Education:                 Certificate of participation in “group” activities

Experience:                 Been around the block a few times…

Skills:                          Can touch my lower stomach without using my hands

Achievements:                       Never been arrested for seX crimes

Hobbies:                      All things done in the dark

References:                 See attached list for numbers of satisfied customers!

The Only Way to See the Stars…

By Jacques Fleury

[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]

I often wonder why I smile even when sad

Thudding of my heart hearkening back

To recidivist scars running my fingers

Over the scabs abrading the cut of the

Blade and making my way in a world full

Of hurt people who hurt people

A pejorative and abortive choice

So smiling instead of snarling helps me

Remember even if bliss turns to distress

To see the stars is through the darkness…

Possible Causes and Effects of Cited High Blood Pressure

By Jacques Fleury

[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]

If your Father died of heart disease

If you have Sleep Apnea

If you have irregular sleeping schedule

If you are overweight

If you have a late night binge eating habit

If you take caffeinated Energy Supplements

If you Drink Caffeinated Tea and Hot Chocolate

If you Use heavily salted spices like Chicken Bouillon Cubes

If you’re not getting enough “regular” cardio exercise

If you’re inconsistent with your daily meditation practice

If you ruminate about the past: its afflictions and perceived malfeasances

If you harbor resentments regarding sociopolitical and racial injustices

If you feel constant stings of Minority Stress through Micro Aggressions of racism

If you are BLACK!

Random Musings about Submission

By Jacques Fleury

[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]

Let’s just begin in

medias res…or in the middle of things…

You see, we had artistic differences,

I was the artist and they were indifferent…

“Thank you for your submission…” but I never 

Submitted!

At least not in the way that they wanted me to;

If I wasn’t fiscally challenged, I would board a jet plane

And head for a luge run at Saint Moritz Switzerland,

A psychotically dangerous sport;

Maybe they’ve driven me to psychosis!

Luge, a sport rooted in Germanic tribal wars against the Romans;

Bored aristocrats on vacation looking for a distraction;

Although I am distracted by my own tribal war here in America,

I am nothing like a bored and puerile aristocrat…

This landed me in a mawkish quagmire of self-pity;

In my mind I absconded into a journey of devilment to topple my torment;

Writing can be an exercise in discernment that you are inevitably

Obliged to submit for judgment; that is if you expect to make

An impact other than justifying your own derangement due to

Maladjustment…

“Your writing is not a good fit for our publication” was the nadir of my existence!!!

What did I write to warrant such specious offerings you may ask?

Well I wrote from the voice of an ignoble omnivorous muskrat

Whose sexual identify is non-binary;

Both a strumpet and a sthumpet!

And as an exponent of socio-political justice wrote hither and thither

An apocalyptic reverie about mutant muskrats;

A germane allegory or political fodder for the purpose of unveiling

pejorative prejudice;

Deciding to introduce a foreign element into an established

Yet insecure environment so to demonstrate the ensuing behavior

Of those who deem themselves superior;

The muskrat representing the only POC or person of color

In an all-white order where WASPS Rule!

WASPS being descendants of

Wealthy Anglo-Saxon Protestant Males

Feeling their long history of imposing their cultural values and

Socio-political power over “the other” that is

women and minorities…

Threatened by a neo-progressive era geared towards changing the status quo;

Clamping down on their suppression in retaliation to the

Nascent and unrelenting movement towards socio-political

And economic progression and equality

In this American Nation!

“Thank you for your submission

But your work is not a good fit for our publication…”

Really?!

So here I am, randomly musing about not being chosen…

Am I just a titular poet?

A deuteragonist in my own story?

When do I get to be the protagonist hero despite my AFRO?!

When do I get to be the plucky character in epics akin to

19th century iconoclastic South African king Shaka Zulu whose heroic story depicted

How he united tribal factions to create notable states and powerful African identities…or even

Anglo-Saxon and French epics like Beowulf together with Le Chanson De Roland?

Or even the archetypal Mesopotamian great:

The Epic of Gilgamesh;

Regarded as the earliest prototypical literature and the second oldest religious text…

“Your submission is not on par with our vision…”

Really?!

Even in the midst of global

Dissention and division?!

So we had artistic differences…I was the artist and they were indifferent.

But I decided to muse about it to manufacture

My own moment,

Fashion my own non-contentious and all-inclusive literary faction,

Where ALL postulatory voices are worthy of publication;

Because the acrimony of exclusivity is

A damnation!

I will continue to submit but NEVER to their behest for 

Submission!!!

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian-American Poet, Author, Educator and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest book “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” and other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of  Wyoming , The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, amazon etc…  He has been published in prestigious  publications such as Muddy River Poetry Review, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.