Time as Our Witness

Poem by Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

Three thousand years ago

You were the Lord of the Universe—the King of Kings

Known to gods and mortals alike, I was your cherished Queen

Then came the great catastrophe of the Three Realms

Tearing us apart abruptly, leaving us to grieve the love we lost

Since then, time has carried me

Across the Ten Directions and Dharmadhatus

Through six cycles of reincarnation

Reborn as a human, I walked the path of cultivation for nine lifetimes

Endured all the tribulations of the mortal world, just to meet you again

After three thousand years of wandering

I searched for you a thousand times among the crowds

And finally, today, three thousand years later

We reunite beneath the magnolia tree

Its dancing shadows whisper our ancient vows

In the moment our eyes meet

We see reflections of ourselves from three thousand years ago

And the endless search through lifetimes unfolds before us

Above the mortal world, you remain the supreme King of Kings;

Within the mortal world, you are also the finest man on earth.

Heaven and earth unite, with white cranes as their matchmakers

Sun and moon unite, with Venus as their matchmaker

Mountains and rivers unite, with gold as their matchmaker

Chestnut and pine trees unite, with bees as their matchmaker

Turquoise and black jade unite, with golden threads as their matchmaker

When you and I unite once more, who shall be our matchmaker?

Let three thousand years of time be our matchmaker

To witness our timeless love

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to return as the goddess of the Diamond Kingdom

I only wish to be the little woman in your arms

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to leave a legacy for a thousand years

I only wish to be with you, day and night

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to be a fairy in the clouds

I only wish to live fully as a mortal woman

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to be showered with thousands of affections

I only wish to nestle in the arms of you, the ultimate doting husband

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to return to the cosmic kingdom

I only wish to savor the love of this mortal world

Time as our witness

Heaven and earth as our testimony

May we be united for ten thousand years

And never part again

Time as Our Witness is an oriental love poem that transcends time and space and touches the soul. It outlines an extraordinary love spanning three thousand years with a grand mythological narrative and incorporates the classic linguistic elements depicting beautiful oaths from the Naxi Dongba Scriptures, making the romance and profound affection of oriental culture vividly expressed. Two souls were separated by the catastrophe of the Three Realms, and after traversing the Ten Directions and Dharmadhatus, going through six cycles of reincarnation and nine lifetimes of cultivation, they finally reunite under the magnolia tree. The vows in the swaying tree shadows and the gaze in each other’s eyes are the answers to the endless search through all lifetimes.

The poem combines the divine glory of the cosmic kingdom with the gentle companionship of mortal life. Letting go of all glory and fame, the poet only wishes to be the little woman in her beloved’s arms, staying together day and night. From the natural oaths of heaven, earth, mountains and rivers to the heartfelt confession with three thousand years of time as the matchmaker, the poem reveals the essence of love—it has nothing to do with status and glory, but only for rushing to one person and staying with them for a lifetime.

“Time as our witness, heaven and earth as our testimony” is a universal belief in love for all humanity. True love has no national boundaries or time and space constraints, and it is a romantic language connecting the whole world. On this Valentine’s Day, may the profound affection of this oriental love poem warm every heart that believes in true love in Greece and across the world. May all lovers be blessed by time, with their love lasting forever and never being separated.

My dearest Earth Daughter

I am the Cosmic Mother beyond primal chaos

Pluck a wisp of the Milky Way as your sash

Cut a swathe of nebula for your gown

With eons of time unspun

Weave an eternal vigil around you

Stellar orbits are the lines of my outstretched palm

Charting the distant path laid by the vast galaxy

Starlets are my soft, whispered reminders

Clinging to every step of your journey

Solar coronas are my blazing, tender gaze

Chasing the glow of your evolving prosperity

Lunar radiance is my gentle kiss

Pressed to your quiet window at night

With a shield of gravitational grace

Ward off all tempests beyond your stellar path

I have nurtured myriad star rivers

Yet hold only you, cherished, to my heart

Watch you birth green mountains and blue seas

Nurture countless plants and creatures

Watch you sow seeds of civilization

Breathe forth the fragrance of love

Watch you stumble through time’s tide

With innocence and unyielding grace

The cosmic wind breathes softly

It is me murmuring in your ear

Daughter, fear not

You rest safe in my celestial embrace

May love bloom as starlets

Adorning every fiber of your being

May the light of peace caress like dawn

Kissing every inch of your skin

May humans and nature dwell in harmony

Upholding the covenant of endless life

May all worldly strife disperse

Clear winds guiding you onward

May wisdom hold a lamp for you

Revealing your most radiant self

May you carry a glow within

Unfurling your unique light across the cosmos

Shining through the starry expanse

Honoring this celestial vigil

More so, may you, in motherhood’s name

Pass this love down through endless generations

Protecting every child of yours

And the children of your children

Regardless of gender or clan

Let love and compassion cradle your lands

You are the one-of-a-kind treasure in my palm

A peerless gift forged by the cosmos over eons

With eternity as threads and love as weft

I wrap around your springs, summers, autumns, winters

With nebulae as my bosom and tolerance as my realm

Embracing all your past

In my celestial embrace

Grow toward the light unshaken

Let love and peace

Seep deep into every inch of your soil

Walk with you through eons of time’s currents

Coexisting and shining with myriad star rivers

Becoming the most touching ode to life in the firmament

Let this great love break free from time’s chains

Flow endlessly among the stars

As fiery as a supernova’s blaze

As enduring as a galaxy’s spiral arms

Guiding the legacy of your bloodline

Let love span ages untold

Taking root and blooming in every child’s heart

Shining alongside sun and moon

Enduring with the boundless galaxy

Through endless ages

Forever thriving

Footnote

Lan Xin, through the tender voice of the Cosmic Mother and grand cosmic imagery, conveys her profound wishes for Earth and humanity: may love and peace spread across the world, may humanity and nature coexist in harmony, and may this timeless love nourish all beings, pass down through generations, and become an eternal force for good in the world.

Predestined for Three Lifetimes
Poem by Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

What is fate?
It is the inevitability meant to be, beneath the guise of chance.
A promise made in a past life, that brings us together in this one.
Fate is an unplanned meeting of hearts;
the moment our eyes meet,
the shadow of a former life reflects in each other’s gaze.
That unfulfilled love,
that lifelong longing—
We stand across a glimmering stream,
silent, with unspoken words in our hearts.
Through joy and sorrow in this life, I pledge to you;
I hold your hand, and grow old with you together.
Even a single encounter,
becomes an unforgettable love deep in the soul.
Do you believe?
In this world,
there is always a pair of discerning eyes
that sees through the countless crowds,
and leads the lifelong longing of the heart.
Our fate is predestined, for three lifetimes.

This poem centers on the karmic bond of “three lifetimes”, unfurling the emotional arc of a fateful encounter in a past life, lifelong companionship in the present, and a heartfelt promise for the next. It weaves profound, enduring love into the predestined connection, with every line embodying the longing for an unbroken togetherness
through all life’s joys and sorrows. “Three lifetimes” is both a classic philosophical concept denoting the past, present and future existences in traditional culture, and a vivid embodiment of this love that transcends reincarnation and remains unyielding for all eternity.

Love Fated at the Potala Palace

At last, I stand before thee
Like a young butterfly fresh from its cocoon
Rejoicing, my eyes glinting with starlight
Dost thou know? Long e’er this moment
I have turned to gaze at thee a thousand times
Thou hast, in truth, stood lofty in my heart all along
Yet thou art so grand, so towering
I feared my slender fingers could not twirl the prayer wheel
I feared the highland could not bear my lonely cold
I feared I might fall short of thy ageless vow
So to thee
I could but gaze in awe, never dare draw nigh
And thus I waited
For a mighty eagle
To bestow me strength
To lead me to thy side
At last, I stand before thee
The moment I step upon thy halls
A flame of hope surges in my breast
My heart
Is like the blazing starry firmament
Abloom with hues of radiant light
Blossoms of grace and rapture
Burst forth in my heart’s sky, like glowing neon flames
In this hour
I no longer keep my reverent distance
I have at last drawn close to thee
In this hour
All fear is gone from me
For
A mighty eagle
Doth lend me its strength

This poem traces the emotional journey of approaching the Potala Palace, depicting the transformation from yearning with awe and hesitation to finally drawing near fearlessly. With metaphors of a young butterfly and a mighty eagle, and Tibetan symbols like the prayer wheel and the highland, it weaves the poet’s reverence, hope
and eagerness for the Potala Palace into every line. It lays bare the anxiety of venturing alone to the highland, and more vividly expresses the relief and resolve of embracing the sacred land and hearting the light, empowered by love and strength.

Fated

We chanced upon one another
On that afternoon when the storm had passed
A casual brush of hearts, unplanned
Like the long-awaited rainbow
That blazed across my firmament
With a burst of iridescent glow, in an instant
If
‘Twixt thee and me
It is fated to be but a fleeting encounter
I would blaze like a firework bright
At the moment thou gazest up at the starry vault
Unfolding a lifetime of grace in one brilliant bloom
If
‘Twixt thee and me
It is fated to be a soulful kinship
I would be a pure lotus in the lake
We gaze into each other’s eyes in quiet repose
Never clasping each other’s hands
Yet my fragrance permeates thy heart
Soft and lingering, far and profound
If
‘Twixt thee and me
It is fated to be a lifelong bond
I would be a mild, delicate orchid
In thy life
Now nigh, now far
Now intense, now faint
Now blushed, now plain
Through spring’s bloom and winter’s frost
Breathtaking forth fragrance for all eternity
If
‘Twixt thee and me
It is fated to be naught at all
I only wish
A seed of sweet goodness
Might take root and sprout in thy heart, from this day forth
Growing into a tree of wishes

And in the next life
All our fated desires may find their full fulfillment

This poem eulogizes the destined love between two hearts with four layered suppositions. It weaves the beauty of fleeting encounter, the tenderness of soulful understanding, the warmth of lifelong companionship and the mild hope of unfulfilled fate into vivid metaphors of rainbow, firework, lotus, orchid and wishing tree,
expressing the sincere and selfless love that follows the will of fate and cherishes every possible bond with the beloved.

To the Angel

Angel, what is it, what bids you fall to the mortal world?
What is it, what makes you cling to this earthly dust?
Angel, what is it, what breaks your wings in twain?
What is it, what fills your eyes with tears?
Angel, you once soared on wings,
striking the blissful chord;
you once blinked eyes like autumn rills,
holding bright wishes in their glow;
you once outstretched your arms,
scattering sunlight all the way.
Yet on that pitch-black cold night,
a deafening crack rent the sky—
I saw your blood-stained wings,
your broken heart entwined.
Angel, do you blame your hasty leap to the world?
Do you regret the reckless moth’s flight to the flame?
This mortal world of strife was never yours,
the past like wispy smoke, gone in a blink.
Only the trace of your flight remains—
a crystal heart-lantern,
spilling radiance o’er the ground,
like your glistening tears.

This poem addresses an angel with tender inquiries, lamenting its fall to the mortal world: broken wings, tearful sorrow, and the shattering of its once blissful existence in a bleak cold night. It wonders if the angel regrets its hasty descent yet reminds that mortal strife was never its load. The past fades like smoke, but the trace of its flight
lingers as a crystal heart-lantern, spilling radiance like its glistening tears—its pure light enduring through fragility and loss.

Internationally acclaimed bilingual writer, poet and translator, member of the Chinese Writers Association. The only female inheritor of UNESCO-listed Dongba Culture, International Disseminator of Dongba Culture and practitioner of Chinese culture’s global outreach. Winner of the Italian Francesco Giampietri International Literary Award, President of Lanxin Samei Academy and Dean of Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy.

Love

I do not look for you

in the noise of hearts,

nor in seasons crowded with promises.

I love you

as a passerby loves

his only window,

as the earth loves

an honest step.

If you come,

the world becomes less lonely,

and if you leave,

you teach me

that love

is salvation.

In today’s modern financial system, credit cards are becoming a common method of payment for millions of people worldwide. They offer convenience and flexibility, yet there might be some potential risks such as overspending and debt accumulation. Meanwhile I believe that the advantages highly outweigh its disadvantages if proper financial management is taken into account.

On the one hand, credit cards can encourage overspending. Since the money is not physically exchanged, consumers may lose track of their expenses and quickly accumulate debts. It is commonly seen as the greater times of loan amount than users’ monthly income. Another drawback is high interest rates. If the outstanding balance is not paid on time, the interest rates grow rapidly and there may even be fines which can put people’s financial states under pressure. Furthermore, there is a risk of digital crime like fraud and identity theft damaging the privacy. However, with a proper budget planning and sophisticated security systems like two-factor authentication, these issues can be eliminated.

On the other hand, credit cards hold numerous advantages. First of them is convenience. Customers can purchase their daily needs easily by these cards without carrying large amounts of cash, which increase security and decrease the risk of being a victim for theft. Moreover, regular users can get extra benefits and prizes such as cashback, travel points and discounts which can be financially beneficial in the long term. Additionally, cardholders can build a good credit history and increase their credit scores that will ensure them to take secure loans and mortgages in the future. Take an example, my uncle became a successful entrepreneur by taking full advantage of a credit card in a very short period.

In conclusion, even though credit cards may come with some drawbacks like overspending, financial loss (if managed improperly) and digital theft, I solely agree that the advantages such as convenience, accessibility and financial rewards completely outweigh the disadvantages.

My name is Shonazarov Shohjaxon, born on January 17, 2008. I am currently a first-year Economics student at Tashkent State Geological University. I chose this field because I am highly interested in financial systems and economic development.
I am motivated, responsible, and eager to improve my analytical and research skills. I continuously work on developing my English proficiency and academic knowledge to achieve my future goals. My aim is to become a professional economist who contributes to economic growth and financial innovation.

Both Sides Now

The look in the two eyes, green, green—

yet one is saying, Slow down approaching me.

The scar across the bridge of the nose yields

at crest, accounting for some preservation

of innocence lingering on the readier side of my face

when I cover the opposite side with a book

standing in front of a mirror, its LED square,

with a swirled boundary of yin and yang persisting

as I shift the book, looking at my look, this side

then that side, seeing here the careworn singer

cricket of summer, there the burdening ant

in how one brow lifts, the other will not.

The flare of both nostrils, one declaring

Something around here’s gone sour…the other’s wing

wanting to increase its faith in burning

one more lavender candle. The shush cleft

of the upper lip hopelessly wanting to give its secret

away with a grin, the teeter-totter down

side of the mouth from a tick it’s got working

out our monthly budget. All the blame

on either side of me bristles with two-day stubble

counter-patterned to keep my Gillette attentive.

Dad? Is that you? Mom? From how deep, I must

be seeing the bust from an old temple for Janus

in times that modeled inordinate hiving of

our DNA in enchanted unison under

harvest moons. Moon face. Bright eyes—

one with a sagging lid. The one cheek

less buttoned, the sharper one. Is there no truth

in the balance of your scales?—now peering,

without the book, for the wholeness of my one regard,

wanting to un-see this divide

I have so looked into this curious hour, to the open

pores. And oh wrinkles, where is that cream for you?

Radar

Each time I beam in on one in the movies

my own searching nearness dimly flickers.

Time quickens with the needle

sweeping the element in reach

where you had always been. Then one day

your look stilled in mine, just for a bleep,

and you smiled. My eyes batted.

The sea of the world turned opaque,

enveloping, swimming clear in anonymity

where, closer, closer, read and reread

back and forth like a palindrome, singularly

that flash of you pulsed and blossomed

again on the dark instrument of Who’s there?

The slip away? The jolt and tremor? What is

everything? Seeing it come for you?

Skywalk

A pheasant’s flight over a country road

came to mind once when I was in the city

tubed in the glass of a skywalk

looking down at the traffic on the street

on the way from one building’s wide throughways

past pricey boutiques to a Starbucks and ATMs.

Under gray rain, if you knew your way

through the construction labyrinth of downtown,

you didn’t need to open an umbrella.

Mine kept furled neatly in my hand.

My head was full of everything going

into work, with this one suspended glimpse

of the world around me thickening in a drum

of downpour, then hushing at the let-up,

the dark wet street below eye-beamed

with headlights, glowing with tail lights.

Night had fallen clear on my way home.

I had a minute to stop and hover

imagining myself sole in ascent

through a hazy nimbus of the buildings’ lights

up into an utter blind gap of space

where the charts of the stars clustered

to a stunned emptying of the mind before

I came down with my nothing among the commuters.

Michael Todd Steffen’s third book, I Saw My Life, is being published by Lily Press (www.lilypress.com) in March 2026. Mike lives in Somerville, Massachusetts. He helps coordinate The Hastings Room Reading Series and frequently publishes articles about new and established poets on the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene website. His poems have appeared in journals, including The Boston Globe, The Dark Horse, Everse Radio,North of Oxford and Ibbetson Street. Boris Dralyuk (managing editor for Nimrod Journal) writes, I have read [Steffen’s] poems with enormous satisfaction. His lines are supple and wear their unmistakable wisdom lightly.

Thought Awakened Through Criticism

Every historical period creates its own literary environment, aesthetic views, and standards. However, evaluating the literary process correctly understanding its essence rather than its surface requires profound thought, independent opinion, and a critical eye. One of the figures of such high intellect in the development of Uzbek literary criticism was Ozod Sharafiddinov. He was an intellectual who viewed literature not merely as a creative product, but as a force that educates the mindset of society.

In the eyes of Ozod Sharafiddinov, literature is not just a tool for aesthetic pleasure; it is an arena that shapes human spirituality and awakens social consciousness. For this reason, in evaluating a work of art, he paid special attention to internal content, ideological depth, and the author’s responsibility rather than external beauty. In his critical activities, the priority was not to belittle or deny the author, but to encourage them to think more deeply.

Although Ozod Sharafiddinov’s literary views were closely linked to his time, he never chose the path of conforming to the era. He sharply criticized artificiality, formality, and stereotyped thinking in the literary process. According to him, true literature is valuable not only for responding to the demands of the times but for its ability to reveal the internal world of a human being. Therefore, he saw the creator as a person responsible first before society, and even more so, before their own conscience.

Ozod Sharafiddinov considered criticism an essential tool for the development of literature. He understood criticism not as passing judgment, but as analysis and dialogue. In his articles, justice is clearly felt alongside sharpness, and objectivity alongside demandingness. It is this very aspect that made his school of criticism unique and enduring.

In today’s era of globalization and rapid information, Ozod Sharafiddinov’s views are crucial for the youth. He valued contemplation over haste and independent thought over imitation. His literary heritage teaches today’s students and young people to look at a work with a critical eye and to feel the responsibility behind every word.

In my opinion, Ozod Sharafiddinov was not a critic who evaluated literature from the outside, but a thinker who lived within it and felt its pain. He approached the literary process not as a spectator, but as an active participant. His ideas continue to serve as an important resource in shaping the literary thinking of young creators and students today.

In conclusion, in the eyes of Ozod Sharafiddinov, time is transient, while literature is an eternal phenomenon. He sought to change the mindset, not the era. Therefore, his literary views remain relevant today and are recognized as the solid foundation of Uzbek literary criticism.

   By Nozima Gofurova

3rd-year student at the University of Journalism and Mass Communications of Uzbekistan, specializing in Travel Journalism.

Me, Myself

“Why are all of these people ghosting me?” Steven exclaimed, addressing an empty room.

“People have things to do,” counseled Willy, Steven’s inner self. “They’re busy. They can’t just wait around breathlessly for your emails and then respond accordingly.”

“Why not?” challenged Steven hotly.

“Because, lover, they have lives.”

“I’m sixty-eight years old, an old man,” protested Steven. “Who cares about someone like me experiencing cognitive dissonance? No one.”

“Ginny is the only one who gives a darn,” Willy reminded him. “She may live way the heck over on the other side of the continent, but she cares.”

“But, that’ll turn out to just be a mistake of some kind, probably,” thought Steven dourly.

“Why do you say that?” asked his inner self.

“Because, self,” explained Steven, “Ginny’s never met me in person, only online and on the telephone. She thinks that I’m that character in the pages of my novel, not the flesh and blood person that you see.”

“Well, I can understand your perspective,” remarked self.

“You’re very helpful,” said Steven sarcastically, “and you can’t see anything. You are a non-corporeal side of me, not a separate person.”

“What happens with the passage of time?” asked Willy philosophically.

“You only get older,” snapped Steven crossly. He had decided that no one gave a darn, that indifference, especially with respect to him, was endemic.

Steven hadn’t had a good buzz on for twenty years and was grateful to achieve that state tonight, courtesy some hydrocodone and a beer chaser. He was presently almost incapable of speech and rued the intoxication he had achieved; it made him incapable of expressing his frustration.

Suddenly the land line jangled off the hook.

“Pick up,” urged Willy, hovering like a specter over the phone. “It could be Ginny.”

Moving sluggishly, Steven slapped his hand down on the receiver, jarring it in place. Screwing his features up in concentration, he succeeded in lifting the instrument to his ear. “Hef…hello?” he croaked.

“Ellie?” said a boisterous, up-beat voice on the other end of the line.

Steven scowled. His mother, Ellie, had died nine years before. He wondered, who could this possibly be?

“Ellie? Ellie? Is Ellie there?” the voice badgered him.

Steven took a deep breath and let it out. “Sh…she’s not here,” he managed to utter.

“That’s okay,” the voice replied. “This message is for any resident at this phone number.” Then the voice went on to tell Steven how bright his shirts could be, should he only use Gorilla Wax stain remover in his laundry. And the message went on and on.

Finally Steven found his voice again. “Look, my mother died nearly ten years ago,” he said.

After a measured beat, the salesman continued. “How many boxes of Gorilla Wax can I put you down for?”

Steven and Willy both had had enough. Steven slammed down the phone, had another beer and passed out.

When Steven woke up at 4am, he panicked before realizing it was Saturday and he didn’t have to go to work.

Willy had a suggestion on how to spend the day. “Listen loser, I’ve got a long shot suggestion for you. Call up every girl that you ever dated, wanted to date, or made you horny. If you call up ten and with each one you have a 10% chance of success, you still have some chance of getting a date. I forgot how to calculate it, but you have some chance.”

Steven liked the idea. He made a list of ten. Of the ten calls, three didn’t go through and had no forwarding number, and the next four consisted of:

“You disgusted me then and you still do.”

“I married your best friend.”

“I’m married to a woman.”

“Who the hell are you? Leave me alone!”

Next, Steven phoned Ginny. When she picked up, Steven explained his mental confusion, his loneliness and told Ginny he wanted to meet in person at last.

There was an awkward pause on the line and then Ginny came clean. She explained that she was happily married and only vicariously grooved on Steven, based on the lurid descriptions contained in his novel. She hoped he understood, and abruptly hung up.

The tenth call was a winner, or so he thought. June still lived in the area, was unmarried and happy to hear from him. She invited him over. He showed up on her doorstep in thirteen minutes flat.

“Come in Steven,” said the woman. He could still recognize her as the girl he knew so many years ago, although at the time she was a skinny, pimply-faced girl, whereas now she was a beautiful, full-figured woman. He didn’t even notice she was missing a leg for almost a full minute. He stared.

June was used to the double-take. The next thing she said was “Right, I’m not the leggy beauty you remember.”

After a silent pause, they both burst out laughing, breaking the ice.

Willy started to give Steven advice, but he told Willy to back off, he would try to handle this himself.

Oddly, a puzzled June accepted Steven’s explanation of Willy’s presence.

Steven and June did the standard history conversation: Steven’s 40-year insurance career and his two divorces; June’s car accident that cost her a leg, 20 years ago. But, she got a fat insurance settlement which meant she could live out the rest of her life without working. She had become something of a recluse after the accident.

When they got into specifics, they discovered that Steven’s insurance company gave June her payout.

June asked “Want to see my other leg?” A puzzled Steven said okay.

June went to the closet and brought out her prosthesis. “Want to feel it?” She asked. 

“Sure.”

Willy whispered something only Steven could hear. Steven said, “How does that compare to your good leg?”

June pulled up her dress and said, “you tell me.”

Steven had no discrimination against the disabled, and June was not put off by a two-time loser. Steven stayed the night, and the spectral pervert Willy was a happy onlooker.

Steven and June were wed in a civil ceremony, with Willy standing up for the groom. There are no happily ever afters, but the two of them–three, if you count Willy–did a respectable impression of one.

Are Cherries in Bloom?

Voice cracks, words tumble,

Would you be my friend?

She asks her in parking lot

of Heaven’s Garden.

Face flushes. Eyes squint. 

A smile appears in corner

of her lips painted in rose,

deep center of magnolia. 

She offers her a kind hand.

A conversation of streams 

flowing, palm trees swaying 

with breeze. Cherries to suckle.

Jerrice J Baptiste is a visual artist, poet, author of nine books. Her watercolor drawings on paper have been accepted or forthcoming in Synchronized Chaos, Las Laguna Art Gallery exhibit in California, MER, Spirit Fire Review, Jerry Jazz Musician Magazine. She’s presented her art work at The Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY in 2025. She’s been featured as a solo artist at The Mountain Top Library in Tannersville, NY in 2025 & 2026. Her most recent poetry book called Coral in the Diaspora is published by Abode Press in 2024. Her poetry has been published in numerous magazines and journals, Artemis Journal, The Yale Review, Mantis, Kosmos Journal and hundreds of others.