I am now 77 years old

I am now 77 years old… this is a strange time of life, but then, I guess every stage of life has its strangeness… anyway…  I lived my first 11 years on a failing dairy farm near Baldwin, Wisconsin…  I have lived most of my life since then in the East Metro suburbs of St. Paul, Minnesota… about 45 miles from where I was born… as a kid, the trip to “the cities” was a huge adventure…  but today, it is just minutes away on the freeway… while the farm was going broke, my dad worked on the I-94 freeway which was cutting through the countryside about a mile from our farm… his job was sharpening pilings with a chain saw… this was a terrible job…  the construction companies would hire local farmers to do these miserable jobs while most of the work crew was tradesmen who lived elsewhere and moved around to follow the work…

the pilings were like telephone poles that were driven into the ground in wet areas as supports for the concrete columns that held up bridges…  the telephone poles were treated with creosote as a preservative for when they were driven into the ground…  the creosote was a black, tar like substance that would cover dad’s hands and face and permeate his clothing when he came home from work…  the farm did not have running water and we only had hot water from heating it on the kitchen stove, so getting cleaned up from all this creosote was pretty much impossible… not to mention that it was summer, so a person got hot and sweaty working on the construction sites…  and then coming home, there was field work to do by the dim single light of an old John Deere tractor… no wonder he often went to the bar after work with the construction workers…

my dad had one sister who was a few years younger than him… she was married to a guy from Thorpe, Wisconsin about an hour east of Baldwin where my grandparents lived at that time…  the sister and her husband lived between Withee and Owen, Wisconsin…  they had one child, a son, who was two years older than my older brother, so four years older than me… he was named “Bill” after his dad… for my brother and I, it was a real thrill to see Bill whenever his parents came to visit us and the grandparents in Baldwin… we thought that Bill and his family were tremendously rich although, in reality, they were simply middle class while we were poor…  we got “hand me down” clothes from Bill… some of which were crazy fancy to us…  I remember that I got a brown suit that somehow bypassed my brother…  I was about ten years old and really had no use for a suit… I don’t think I ever wore the suit outside the old farm house, but I thought it made me look like a billionaire…

so, at some point in maybe 1958, my brother and I got to spend a couple weeks with our aunt and uncle and Bill at their house near Withee… one of our dad’s drinking buddies from the construction site was a guy named Cliff, who lived in Wausau and who offered to drop us off at Bill’s house on his way for a visit at his home…  so, we got in the car with Cliff and off we went to Withee… Cliff proved to be a perfectly decent guy and dropped us off with no problem…  strange to think of in 2025…  sending 10 and 12 year old kids with a stranger, no less, a drinking buddy from the construction site…  but although the usa was in some ways very harsh in those days, it was in some ways less distrustful and worried than today…

anyway, Bill was maybe 14 and so, it was so exciting for us to be away from our crazy home, with all the drinking and fighting… and Bill’s house seemed an island of tranquility, although, it was maybe not so tranquil when we were not there…  but I don’t really know about that…  so, the house seemed a virtual palace compared to the threadbare old farmhouse… it had running water, hot and cold! indoor plumbing, central heat and it was clean and neat with polished furniture, tasteful end tables with lamps and knick-knacks…  there was a curved stairway that my aunt had designed herself and had built going upstairs leading to the bedrooms and the attic… over the front door was a long shelf with a collection of beer steins, ranged by size from tiny cups to the huge two foot stein in the center… the kitchen was modern with a range instead of a woodstove and their were folksy rugs on the polished wood floors…

then Bill took us up to his room which we had never seen before…  Bill’s dad was an auctioneer, and at that time the auction business was booming as the small farms were going bankrupt and being bought by the more successful farmers to make much larger farms… this consolidation was made possible by increasing mechanization…  combines and hay balers, bigger tractors and machinery of all kinds was making it possible for one farmer to vastly increase his productivity and handle lots more acres and milk cows…  our farm had 16 milk cows and today, farms in that area have hundreds of milk cows…  so the industry was really changing and all these big changes were just getting going in 1958… whenever my uncle had an auction, he would look around first and pick out anything that seemed interesting or unusual and buy it for himself…  lots of those old farmhouses had military stuff in the attic that soldiers had brought home from the two world wars and even from the civil war, and my uncle liked collecting guns and old military stuff…  Bill got his pick of this stuff, so, Bill had in his room all kinds of items that we found fascinating…

he had several civil war swords and a civil war pistol… he had muskets and a real German Luger… he had a big red nazi flag with a white circle and a swastika in the middle as well as a German army helmet and a confederate flag… he had a horse pistol which was a pistol that fired a 410 shotgun shell and a complete civil war uniform…  all of this stuff was in Bill’s room… across the hall in the attic, his dad kept the rest of the gun collection with all kinds of old and odd guns…  our dad came home from World War II with a strong dislike for guns and shooting, but our uncle was an avid hunter and fisherman…  so, this whole thing was a new world for us…

our aunt was into “antiquing” furniture, taking newer furniture and treating it to make it look old and beat up… this astonished me because the furniture I was used to did not need any treatment to make it look old and beat up… in sheds behind the house our uncle kept his collection of odd old cars that he had picked up at the auctions including a Model T, a Model A, and several others…  Bill let us climb in these old cars and look them over…  then even though he was too young to actually drive, Bill showed us an old car that his dad let him drive around on their property…  they had even built a dirt track oval in a pasture next to the house where Bill and his friends, who also had old beater cars, would race their cars… and, I think the most amazing thing of all, was when Bill got his 22 rifle out and was shooting out the back door of his house at fence posts across the back yard…  at one point our aunt took us and some friends, loaded into a big fancy station wagon to go swimming in a local creek…  I think it was called Rock Creek… anyway, it was a hot summer evening and the water at the swimming hole was cool and crystal clear…  I was terrified of the water as I could not swim… but, I found the whole scene just fantastic, like something that would be in a movie or on television…  the sound of the stream rippling over the rocks, the dark trees, the kids splashing around…  the moms sitting on the side smoking and talking… the whole scene lit by the headlights of the cars…  it was like a fairy tale in the middle of an enchanted forest…

well, shortly after that time, my grandparents moved from Baldwin to Withee to be near their daughter… but then in 1961, their daughter, Bill’s mom, died in a car accident…  Bill had been a wild child as a teen and so had finished high school at a private military school his parents sent him to to get straightened out… my last real memory of Bill in those days was from 1963 when he got married…  he had joined the Air Force right out of high school so, in the years after his mom died, while we regularly saw our Grandparents in Withee, and our uncle, we did not see Bill…   

I vividly remember Bill’s wedding…  he wore a fancy Air Force uniform and he and his bride walked down the steps of the church with uniformed Air Force guys on either side holding sabers up crossed over the heads of the bride and groom…

so, many years passed…  my dad died in 1984…  after a suitable period of mourning, my mom started dating my dad’s cousin, who was a widower… when dad’s cousin died, after he and my mom had dated for several years, she got into contact with my uncle, Bill’s dad…  Bill’s dad had always been a colorful character… he always had a bright red Ranchero car/truck and I remember him tooling around Withee back in our early days of going there to visit Grandma and Grandpa…  he was kind of a wheeler/dealer who always had business deals going, fishing trips, hunting trips, etc…  he owned a small airplane back in the years after the war and there was a story that he had tried to take my Grandpa for a ride in it but couldn’t get off the ground because my Grandpa was a pretty big guy…  this airplane was a framework covered with fabric… it was apparently very small and could land and take off from the farm fields… by the time I knew Bill, the plane was gone…  our uncle was a nervous guy and a slick talker…  he was always kind to my brother and I and showed us his rock tumbler and how he would make jewelry out of agates he found here and there… he would cut and polish the agates and glue them into clasps for pins, earings, etc… I remember an old person in Withee who knew our uncle all his life, saying that he had been much calmer and more relaxed before he went away to the war…

so, anyway, after our uncle’s wife, my dad’s sister had died, our uncle had remarried and moved to a different town… I remember hearing sometime down through the years that he had gotten divorced… and then, he and my mom started dating… so at some point, maybe around 2000, I had driven with my mom, one of my sisters and my wife to visit my uncle who I had not seen for all these years…

my uncle was living in his parent’s house in Thorpe and it was fun to see him…  he had not really changed at all…  he showed us his gun collection which he still had and which was stored in a locked room in the basement of the house he lived in…  then he offered us some homemade blackberry wine which my wife said was very tasty…  I do not drink alcohol, so did not try it… then, he showed us a small triumph sports car which he said he had found in a barn and had restored…  it was a really cool little car…

anyway, he said that my cousin Bill was just across the street if I wanted to see him…  of course I did… it was so exciting to see my cousin again after all these years…  he actually looked so much like my dad that it was really cool…  he had the same curl in his hair that my dad had except that like his mother, his hair had gone entirely white at a very young age…  his dad mentioned that we had partaken of his homemade blackberry wine and Bill looked at me and said, “would you like a Diet Coke?”  so, yes, we were both middle aged boomers… and I was much more excited about the soda than the homemade wine…

he was still with his wife and we had a great afternoon of conversation about how our lives had gone… only too soon, the day was getting late and we had to leave for home…  I never saw my uncle or my cousin Bill after that…  the uncle died in 2004 and my mom died in 2017…  in the intervening years, I made some half hearted efforts to get in touch with Bill, but never got any reply…  last summer, my wife and I were driving to Wausau, Wisconsin to visit our daughter’s in-laws…  driving out I-94, within a mile of the old farm, and then on Wisconsin 29 past Thorpe and Withee, I got to thinking about the days of my childhood and so, later that day, I made one more attempt to find my cousin Bill… when I did a google search for his name, I immediately found him, but unfortunately, it was his obituary…  he had died of Parkinson’s disease four years ago…  he had been very ill with this disease for many years, which explained why I had never heard back in my attempts to contact him… he had acquired the disease as a result of exposure to agent orange in Vietnam…  this was a hazard of our generation…  I well knew the horrors of Vietnam because my own older brother had been killed in action in Vietnam in 1968…  

so, I missed one final visit with my cousin… Bill was the only cousin on my dad’s side…  on my mom’s side, I had and still have dozens of cousins but on dad’s side, there was only Bill… well, I felt bad that I had not made more of an effort to stay in touch and so I decided that I would send Bill’s widow a small drawing as a memorial to Bill…  so, I made a drawing of some trees in black ink with an orange border…  I then went on line to see if I could find an address for Bill’s wife to send her the drawing…  well, when I typed her name into the google search, her obituary popped up… she had died last spring…  so, I still have the drawing…  

I am still breathing the sweet midwestern air and walking around in this glorious world of trees and sky, houses and people, friends, relatives and strangers…  every day is a blessing and every day is a reminder of the beauty and fragility of life… I have been very lucky and blessed in this life with a happy marriage, beautiful children and grandchildren and love and kindness in abundance… I have lived the life that my brother never got to live and have enjoyed the health that deserted my cousin Bill…  and I have definitely learned that, if you want to reconnect with someone or reach out to your past, you have to do it now because the future is not promised to any of us…

BLOOD 

In this world, there are very few people 

who belong to us

I am talking of blood relations 

Your mum your dad 

And your brother 

And your sister.

These are the people 

Who are the first 

To feel your loss

And joy in your gain

All others come later 

In this alien universe 

A sister is your greatest support 

And brother too 

If your parents are wise enough

Not make a rival out of him

Brothers are seen as great supports

But also as great rivals too.

But a sister turns a rival is very rare

Although these are times.

When wealth and property 

Determine our love 

For our parents  and each other 

Family bonds have suffered a lot

In these times of calculations 

Still when you fall in an accident 

Just think who is beside you?

Your wife, your son or your daughter 

I am counting all these relations today 

Praying every one has someone 

To show as his own 

Who can take care of him

When he is conducted to the hospital.

Without ignoring the fact that 

Beyond blood relations, are close friends 

Relatives and colleagues 

They are sometimes very good 

And what about Vasudevam Kattumbkam? 

(Entire world our family)

Future Office – Opportunities for Youth Development

In today’s world, where science and technology are rapidly advancing, it is natural that young people strive to achieve success.

But an important question arises: how can we develop? Where should we begin?

Nowadays, artificial intelligence, technology, and social media have become an inseparable part of our lives. At the same time, many young people fall into laziness, lack of discipline, and become distracted by endless streams of information and videos. As a result, questions such as “How do we succeed? Where do we start?” concern not only me but also many younger people.

While searching for answers to these questions, a project called “Future Office” opened a new door in my life. When I learned about the project, I felt it was exactly the opportunity I needed, and I was accepted into its second season.

The Project and First Impressions

The project began online via a Telegram channel. On the very first day, 140 participants were accepted, divided into groups, and each was assigned a curator. I found myself on the 5th group’s list and eagerly joined the group chat. Without waiting for opportunities to come to me, I was one of the first to introduce myself and connect with everyone. To my delight, my teammates were active and open-hearted — we quickly bonded and built a strong network.

Our group was tasked with choosing a name, logo, and slogan. Everyone contributed ideas, and most importantly, we respected one another’s opinions. In the end, we named our group “Renaissance” and came up with a slogan together. These tasks helped us adapt quickly to new people and new environments.

Another task of the day was reading Camus’ “The Stranger.” Albert In the evening, we attended an online training by Shohjahon Urinov, a recipient of the Zahiriddin Muhammad Bobur State Scholarship, on “Conducting Scientific Research and Applying for Prestigious Scholarships.”

We young people often don’t know where to start, what the right path is, or what documents we need. What are the stages of selection? What common mistakes do candidates make? These questions are very important. But who do we ask if we have no acquaintances or access to specialists, especially for youth like me living far from big cities?

This project gave us answers to all these questions and more. Since the project was online, everyone could participate from their region. The group chat allowed free communication and networking. Now, I have friends from different regions, and that is amazing. Being surrounded by like-minded peers helps us compete, learn from each other, and push one another toward our goals.

The best part was the online training from experts. First, they shared their knowledge with us, then answered all our questions. Now we know what to do and how to do it — we have taken one more step closer to our dreams.

Day Two – The Battle of Ideas

This day took place in the “ThinkLab” workshop. We were given a poem by a famous writer and debated it in the literary arena, defending our perspectives. The “ThinkLab 2” and “Quick Battle” sessions truly tested our intellect and wit — just as the saying goes, “The brave are tested in the arena.”

I’ve always loved critical thinking. I have a habit of analyzing things from different angles, giving reasoned judgments, and making thoughtful decisions. The ThinkLab was made for people like me! Fortunately, my teammates were also well-read, sharp-minded people. I learned so much from them, and they learned from me — like paying attention to details and seeing things from different perspectives. It was amazing to share knowledge with each other.

I’ve always had many friends, but exchanging deep ideas with them wasn’t easy — we often didn’t listen to one another. But with an audience united by one goal, everything became easier and full of new insights.

Day Three – Movie Time 

“Movie Time” wasn’t just about sitting on a couch with popcorn. It was about living the story with the characters and learning life lessons. The film was deeply emotional, showing how someone with physical challenges still achieved their dreams. It made us realize how many healthy people live in fear instead of pursuing their goals.

I had actually seen this film before. At first, I wondered, “Do I really need to watch it again? Won’t it be boring?” But then I remembered a phrase that often comes up in my life: “Repetition is the mother of true learning.” Surely, the organizers had chosen this film for a reason. Watching it again, I noticed details I hadn’t paid attention to before. Instead of just following the characters’ stories, I imagined what I would do if I were in their place.

After the film, we discussed it as a group. 140 people shared 140 different ideas and experiences — it felt magical, like unlocking another secret on my path toward my goals.

Later that evening, we had a seminar with Davron Ergashev, a multiple grant-winner, on “Create Your Own Opportunities: Winning Grants, Writing Motivation Letters and Preparing a CV.”

This training taught us essential skills like writing CVs, crafting motivation letters, and applying for grants — real keys to achieving our dreams. Everyone actively participated, asking questions without hesitation. By the end, we understood that everything is truly in our own hands.

Day Four – Quiz and Reading Time

The day began with the “Quiz for the Smart” — a movie quiz. Three rounds, fifteen questions, and 140 delegates competing in teams. Intellectual games always attract young people; they reveal the talents not only of bookworms and researchers but also of movie lovers.

After the quiz, we returned to “Reading Time” and analyzed “The Stranger” in a voice chat. Each participant shared their golden thoughts. This wasn’t just reading a book; it was about self-discovery and understanding life’s true purpose. Personally, I always empathize with the characters when I read — I cry and laugh with them. That’s why I actively participated and shared my experiences with the group, knowing it brought me closer to my goals.

Day Five – Plastic-Free Day

As part of the “Plastic-Free Day” campaign, each participant collected 20 pieces of plastic waste in their area. It may seem small, but it’s a crucial step toward protecting our planet.

At the end of the day, we attended an eco-training by Husan Tursunboev, the founder of “EkoNur.”

I’ve always enjoyed participating in eco-campaigns. I know my efforts alone can’t influence everyone, but when my younger siblings see me cleaning up, they do the same with their friends, who then influence their families — like a chain reaction. It feels amazing to contribute, even in a small way, to spreading ecological awareness. After all, how can we stand by and watch our beautiful planet be destroyed?

Conclusion

-During the “Future Office” project, I learned many valuable lessons:

-Don’t wait for opportunities — create them yourself.

-Personal development requires books, films, intellectual games, and practical actions.

-Most importantly, teamwork and exchanging ideas help you discover yourself.

If every young person made good use of such opportunities, they would not only develop themselves but also uplift their communities.

Mushtariybonu Abdurakhimova, 3rd-year undergraduate student at Namangan State Institute of Foreign Languages

Active Volunteer | Recipient of the Uzbekistan Volunteers Association Badge of Honor | Creative Writer | Avid Reader | Public Speaker | Social, Environmental & Cultural Activist | Founder of the “Ibrat” Volunteer Group | Leader | Amateur Artist | Presenter

Born on March 26, 2006, in Dangʻara district of Fergana region, Uzbekistan, Mushtariybonu Abdurakhimova is an inspiring young leader actively engaged in education, creative initiatives, cultural and formal communication, public speaking, as well as social and environmental projects. She not only participates in various training sessions and video programs but also organizes and leads them herself.

Mushtariybonu completed her secondary education at School No. 2 in Dangʻara, where she developed a keen interest in literature, foreign languages, culture, critical thinking, and public speaking. Driven by these passions, she was admitted on a merit-based scholarship to the Faculty of Philology at Namangan State Institute of Foreign Languages, where she is currently a third-year student.

From the moment she entered university, she became an active member of volunteer movements, contributing energetically to social and ecological projects. She successfully completed the DXM Volunteers program and earned the Badge of Honor from the Uzbekistan Volunteers Association. Earlier, her university team won first place in the collective reading competition, earning the title of “Most Well-Read Team.” She also served as the coordinator for the female students’ division within the Youth Union, organized numerous projects and competitions, spoke as a guest and trainer in various video programs, and successfully published her first scientific article.

In her spare time, Mushtariy enjoys reading, critical thinking, analyzing podcasts, intellectual videos, and films. She is an amateur artist, a skilled home cook, and has a knack for handicrafts. Her volunteer roles include guide volunteer, eco-volunteer, UNDP volunteer, “Istiqlolli Avlod” volunteer (working on human rights, children’s rights, and anti-violence programs for women), U-Report volunteer, participant of the “EcoAvlod” Season 2 project, and participant of the 4th season of the International Ecology and Tourism Congress.

She actively supports the elderly, provides assistance to lonely seniors and people with disabilities, and is known for her adaptability, sociability, and strong communication skills. Mushtariybonu loves engaging with people and is a quick learner, always striving to make a positive impact through social, environmental, and cultural initiatives.

Despite her young age, Mushtariybonu Abdurakhimova stands out as a talented, proactive, and socially responsible leader, contributing to meaningful change in her community and beyond.

Goddess Durga Demolished Demon 

In crimson dawn, the conch did cry,
A lion roared beneath the sky.
Trident gleamed in morning’s breath,
Durga rose to conquer death.

Mahishasura, proud and vile,
Mocked the gods with wicked guile.
He wore the skins of beast and man,
And laughed at fate’s divine plan.

But Durga stood, her eyes aflame,
Each hand a weapon, each name a name.
She danced with wrath, a cosmic tide,
The stars bowed low, the winds replied.

Her sword sang hymns of sacred rage,
She struck him down, page by page.
Ten arms moved like thunder’s grace,
She carved justice on his face.

Blood turned to dust, pride to plea,
The demon fell, unbound, unfree.
Peace returned to heaven’s dome—
Durga smiled, the world found home.

International Tagore Awardee Poet Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee is a former Affiliate Faculty member at Virginia Commonwealth University USA, and ex-associate professor and head of the post-graduate department of English at Dumdum Motijheel College, the President Kolkata Indian American Society, Associate Editor for Ayomoy and multilingual international Poet/Columnist for national dailies.

1.Tell us about yourself 

How have I started to write poetry?

I started writing at the age of 52. I was influenced and inspired by my poets and journalists’ friends.

We had a cultural forum back then in 2012 and there we would gather around every day at eight o’clock in the evening to listen to our friends recite their writings of poems, literature essays and short stories and after the reading is all finished another session would start to discuss and critics their poetry works, all that had a great positive impact on me to write poetry, short stories and to be involved in other literary works.  

2. What is the message you want to give through your poems?

As a poet I want to communicate various messages, from expressing personal emotions and life experiences to exploring universal aspects of nature, beauty, hope, peace, love, harmony and social justice and to convey a profound message about life and human values. I want to emphasize the importance of kindness, empathy, and living with honesty and integrity. 

Plus, I want to encourage the readers to appreciate the beauty around them and to remain hopeful and positive even in difficult times.

3. Do you believe that the new generation is reading and caring about literature?

Young people may not always read long novels or traditional sonnet poetry, but yes, they do read and care about literature in shorter format such as e-books on their “smart” devices and from seeing them participating and mingling in different social media online and from the number of people I learn of annually who do attend books fairs and buy books.

4. How do you feel when you see your poems published in several foreign sites?

In my own thoughts and perspectives, poetry is an expression of the incomparable meditation and contemplation of the human minds. 

Seeing my poems published on foreign websites gives me a combination of feelings of broader reach, validations and significant connections with wider international audiences, making my voice heard by different people of different cultures and nations and successful transmission of my poetry and literature works beyond borders.

5. Do you want to share with our readers a phrase that changed your life? 

Yes, definitely, I do, here it is: “Today is the opportunity to build the tomorrow you want”

6. What is your next project? 

Well, I am happy to announce a book I have been working on with poet Kristy Raines from the USA, which will be published soon on Amazon, titled “Echoes Across the Oceans”.  It is an anthology of some of our favorite poems.  

NASSER ALSHAIKHAHMED, SAUDI POET AND WRITER, SAUDI ARABIA

Nasser Alshaikhahmed is a Saudi Arabian bilingual poet and writer. He writes poetry and short stories in Arabic and English. He attended college at Sonoma State University in California, USA. Although his field of study is far from literature, his soul is immersed in poetry and writing.

He is a member of:

1-All Poetry.com

2-Soul Asylum Poetry Radio. New York-USA

Poetry Anthologies.

1-Voracious Polyglots-USA

2-The Quilled Ink-South Africa

3- Wheel Song Poetry-UK

Online Magazines

1-Polis Magazino- Greece

2-ILA Magazine- USA

3- Grupo de trabajo de escritores Agentina

4-www.youtube.com/c/Uddan Television

Nasser Alshaikhahmed has translated pieces from English to Arabic for several poets from USA, Japan and Australia, and published his translations in local journals. 

He has published a poetry book in Arabic,” “العرافة ara’fa”, in 2013 through Arabian House for Science. He has published an English poetry book titled “Whispered Vows”, August 2023 by publisher Jeanette Tiburcio Marquez through the Stockholm Project.

He came in second place at the Zheng Nian Cup China Literary Award in 2023. He was awarded on October 14, 2023, by the L.A. Seneca International Academic Literary Award, the Italian Academy of Philosophical Arts and Sciences, Bari-Italy. He participated in the international children’s literature forum in Dhaka, Bangladesh in December 2023. Participated in Oman international poetry and cultural festival, April 2024. Participated in an Indian international literary meeting forum in November 2024. Kolkata, West Bengal, India.

Poem in Which an Eclipse Passes, but You Still Don’t Love Me

That day, I watch two dancing fish

in our campus garden’s pond. I call

the pale one Moon and red one Sun

and imagine they are us.

Empty-bellied, light-deprived,

Moon brushes Sun’s face with their tail

until the dance stops.

Moon swims away,

alone.

That’s how I know Moon is me—

queer fish in a straight pond—

and you are just another Sun.

That day, you watch the real eclipse

somewhere else on campus,

staying far from my orbit.

I sit with the fish and plead:

Can we at least love each other

in Eclipse Time?

That transient, mystical minute when

moon and sun can embrace?

But the moon strays from the sun again,

and you don’t come to dance with me.

We are still who we are, and

even an eclipse can’t change us.

Sea in Me

“But [my love] is all as hungry as the sea,

And can digest as much.”

—Twelfth Night

What’s inside me isn’t sad.

It leaks not just from my eyes.

It’s soaked my insides all

this time. Those who’ve waded by

never dared to dive

into the depths of

desperation

gurgling in my guts.

But you have whetted the sea

in me: waters I swallowed

for so long.

Ink in your hair has

dissolved in my skin.

Now my body aches to regurgitate

you in floods of liquid love

I’ve never shared on paper.

You see them in their sea-green glory:

saliva-waves of love,

acid-waves of love,

sweat-waves of love,

milk-waves of love,

blood-waves of love!

You baptize yourself in it all.

I will let it lap you up.

Ollie Sikes (they/them) is a young queer writer based in Dallas, TX. They hold a double BA in Creative Writing and Theatre from Butler University. Currently, they’re interning with Copper Canyon Press and EJL Editing and serving as Editorial Assistant for Broad Ripple Review. Though they were published multiple times in Butler’s undergrad lit mag, this would be their first professional publication.

Just Another Familiar Face

 His face was all over

 the TV news and the front

 page of all the local

 papers.  It was a familiar

 face to me and the answer

 to one of those trivia quizzes

 you never expect to get

 the answer to: What the hell

 were all those cops doing

 in Richute’s used car lot?

 What they were doing was

 putting the arm on this clown

 I’d been dusting off in

 a series of bar jobs for

 years.  I knew, he was no

 good and not too bright ,but

 killing your sister in law

 and leaving her wired to the

 front door handle with a coat

 hanger and leaving her on

 the block God forgot was

 beyond stupidity.  Being dead

 was bad enough but leaving her

 on Elberon Place, a block from

 where he lived, was not too bright,

 especially with a record

 like the one he had.

 When the captain said,

 “Round up all the usual

 suspects,” they didn’t have

 far to look.  

The Invisible Men

 They knock on the old guy’s

 door with a baseball bat.

 It’s like A Clockwork Orange

 in black and white.

 “Open up, like right now

 or there’s going to be big

 trouble.”

 “Go away, you’ve got no

 business being here.”

 But they do, kicking down

 the door, knocking him

 senseless and rifling all

 the cabinets and drawers,

 withdrawing his life savings.

 On the way out they kick him

 and extra few times in the

 head leaving him senseless

 in a puddle of blood.

 Across the street, in the bar

 with no name, they buy rounds

 of drinks for their friends

 and hangers on, drowning out

 the sirens with classic juke box

 rock and roll. Tipping the bartender

 twenty big ones, they hit

 the bricks around two.

 Later, when questioned, no one

 in the bar remembers seeing

 anyone matching their descriptions.

“We need to talk.”

She said, in a way that meant:

she spoke and I listened.  

I thought about how this one-sided

conversation was about to go,

wondered which transgression

she was going to harp on.  

There were so many to choose from.

As she began to speak,

the opening scenes from the black

and white move, “Night and the City”

began on the muted TV next to

where she was standing.

I watched Richard Widmark

running for his life; long shadows on

concrete and cobblestones.

Soon he’d be trying to steal a good

woman’s money but she was wise to

his ways. Hid her money elsewhere

even if lied and stole from her,

she loved him anyway.  Who could

take advantage of someone as

beautiful and as kind as Gene Tierney?

Richard Widmark could.

I wasn’t the kind of guy someone loved

that much.  

“You’re not listening to me, are you?”

“No.” I admitted.

I watched Widmark rifling through

Gene’s pocketbook. It would all be downhill

from here.

Blood Thirsty Cannibals

The cabbie who was going to

kill himself, dropped me where

Madison meets Lark downtown.

Later, I would think, he must have

been marking his declining years

by how may teeth had fallen out

and it was almost time to die.  

There were a few stories going

around about how he did it but none

of them involved an open coffin so

we’ll never ever know for sure.

I had a reading on Central upstairs,

at the Boulevard bookstore after a slow day

working the bar on a New Year’s Eve.

There was a major weird vibe just being

where I was, nearly seventy degrees outside,

in work clothes, sober and seriously

needing a drink. Didn’t matter much

where, I thought, picked a bar and

wandered in.  The mauve neon should

have been a dead giveaway but I wasn’t

thinking atmosphere, what I was thinking

was Johnny Walker Red now. Called for

a Rob Roy and stared into the face of the most

clueless person who had ever stood behind

a bar. Then I saw all of his lip licking friends

in the backbar mirror staring at me as

if I were chum on the waters. Jesus Harry

Christ, I thought, tried again.

“You’ve heard of a Manhattan, right?

Think Scotch instead of Rye, and pretend

you are making one of those with a whisper

of Dry Vermouth and lemon twist.

You know how to do a lemon twist, right?

If not, I’ll show you. Make it one of those

mini-shakers and pour it over ice and no on

gets hurt, okay? There might even be a nice

tip in it for you.”

Drinking was my avocation in those days

and I took my work seriously sort of like

a blood thirsty cannibal before the main meal.

Thought to myself, that wasn’t a half-bad

title for a poem. I had over an hour to kill

before the reading.  I could get a lot of work

done in an hour. All I needed now was

to keep the piranha at bay, some bar napkins

to write on and a pen.

The Man on the Windshield

Jumps off thruway

overpass, lands on car

doing 70, maybe, 80 m.p.h.,

goes airborne, lands on

windshield of second car,

rebounds off the soft

shoulder/verge. Lives.

Says, the whole experience

gave no meaning to phrase,

“Bad acid flashback.”

Says, it was his third suicide

attempt.  Failed. Sues everyone

involved. Loses. Walks with

a limp now. Looks like shit.