Poetry from Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna

Young middle aged Central Asian woman with short brown hair, reading glasses, a floral top and brown jacket.
Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna

LIFE AND LITERATURE…

Aruz—like a soldier, firm in his stance,

Hijās chase each step, a tireless advance.

In syllabic verse, your fingers may stray,

Yet in haikus, thoughts thread their way…

Each day, your mind races, lost in its track,

Life—a strange script, with scenes thrown back;

Joy—a butterfly, light on its wings,

Grief—like literature, deep sorrow it brings…

Each fleeting moment—a novel so vast,

A film whose script on your forehead is cast.

You—a mere actor, fate-bound and grim,

Each wound—a lesson that seeps deep within…

As you live on, you shall slowly discern

Life’s aruz beats and syllabic turns.

Grand eras revolve, vast and profound,

Dramas and satires, where echoes resound…

Aruz’s pursuit teaches firm resolve,

Syllabic verse finds balance involved.

Should emotions surge, leaving you drained,

Should illness clutch you, weary and pained—

Then read, like blossoms, in wintertime bold,

A haiku’s wisdom, centuries old.

For life, the wise teacher, brief in its say,

May whisper its truths through haikus one day…

Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna (February 15, 1973) was born in Uzbekistan. Studied at the Faculty of Journalism of Tashkent State University (1992-1998). She took first place in the competition of young republican poets (1999). Four collections of poems have been published in Uzbekistan: “Leaf of the Heart” (1998), “Roads to You” (1998), “The Sky in My Chest” (2007), “Lovely Melodies” (2013). She wrote poetry in more than ten genres. She translated some Russian and Turkish poets into Uzbek, as well as a book by Yunus Emro. She lived as a political immigrant with her family for five years in Turkey.

Poetry from Sam Hendrian

A Letter to My Favorite Drug

Accustomed to ending the day on a high note

In the most artificial way possible,

Rising up out of my body

Through elevated corporal cravings.

But sometimes you show up and disrupt

My habitual rituals of obituary-courting,

Your sheer presence rendering me euphoric

Before you’ve spoken a single word.

Yes, the freedom to converse through silence

Is a most precious one indeed,

Raising and lowering my blood pressure

With simultaneous tenderness.

Three hours seem like one

Which of course is not enough

To savor the indispensably insignificant details,

The essential nonessentials.

Go to bed later, wake up earlier,

Energized by our low-energy synergy

And wishing I could imbibe your magic potion

Every day of the week.

The Silence In Between

Woke up at 1 AM

To a cacophony of moans

Almost shattering the window

With operatic decibels.

Good for them,

Bad for me

Still barely fresh

From a pre-sleep fantasy.

Calculated their level of closeness

By listening for the silence in between,

The vulnerable moment

When the script turns into improv.

Shower came on quick enough;

Must have been successful

And a little bit stressful

Remembering each other’s names.

Then a sequel session

Shook the walls once more

But I stopped keeping score

Certain it would end with a closed door.

Nearby Farness

Hoodie to the left, hoodie to the right,

Shields against peripheral vision

So that beauty stays a question mark

Instead of a period.

Better to be trusted than loved

Although it’s nice if you can be both,

Blessed with distant proximity

And nearby farness.

Crumbs of conversation

Scattered in an imaginary forest

Where people require other people

To find their way back home.

Some get their kicks on what-if situations,

Taking communion at the Church of Friday Night

In which bartenders consecrate a glass of California wine

While choirs sing “Sweet Caroline” with no-strings-attached ecstasy.

Others brand themselves as stubborn dreamers

Refusing to search for what refuses to approach them

Without considering the possibility

They’re too well-hidden to be found.

Hoodie up above, hoodie down below,

Angels and mortals locked in a staring contest

Destined to continue for eternity

Since they’re both afraid of flashing their eyes.

Showed Promise

Stumbled across the obituary at precisely 12:00,

The usual time for mid-year New Year’s resolutions

As the drunkenness turns to queasiness

And the pleasure starts to sting.

26 and two days counting;

Didn’t even have the glory of 27,

Just a halfway thought-out header

That read, Showed Promise.”

Showed promise for what exactly?

Capitalistic success?

Perhaps a Wikipedia page

Or picture on a restaurant wall?

Anyhow, it didn’t matter;

Whatever promise was shown had faded

Unless there was an accompanying suicide note

To inspire posthumous adulation.

Wandered to the cemetery the next morning,

Paid respects from a stranger

Which are sometimes sincerer

Than the rehearsed well-wishes of a friend.

Assured him he was more

Than what he had not yet become

And that what he already was

Was all he ever needed to be.

Big Sister

The tiny head had been there for more than an hour

And would likely remain until the train stopped,

Ejecting them both onto a crowded platform

Full of 9-to-5 fighters and 5-to-9 nurturers.

She of course belonged to the latter group,

An invisible angel seen as just another tired face

Accustomed to questions and quests for answers

That even her parents couldn’t fulfill.

Tried to hide the number of times she cried in a day,

Microchipping Kleenex into her eyes

But was frequently met by the sudden surprise

Of an old lady staring sympathetically.

No sympathy was required though,

No hand-me-down advice;

The source of her fragility

Was also the source of her strength.

Which didn’t stop her from doubting

The legitimacy of that tiny head

Gracing her shoulders with trust

She feared she couldn’t live up to.

Poetry from Rahmat A Muhammad

*PEACE ANTHEM* 

_With breath, tucked back into her mouth,_ 

 _A sister opens her heart to photograph_ 

 _The bullet she holds on the chest_

 _With grief, mixed in her coffee mug,_ 

 _We saw her veins, hemorrhaging._

 _Same as home, carrying weight of dead soldiers_

 _With darkness in our lives,_ 

 _Bandits visit our homes to build us a prison on our minds_ 

 _& with faces we mourn,_ 

 _There are countless people coming_ 

 _To pass through this gate of grief_

 _& With God on our lips,_ 

 _We’ll water the flowers again,_ 

 _With hope, love, a whisper, a plea for peace._

Rahmat A Muhammad is a poet from northern Nigeria.

Synchronized Chaos’ First April 2025 Issue: Journeying Inward

“First Day of Spring in Boston” c/o Jacques Fleury

The Global Federation of Leadership and High Intelligence, based in Mexico, is creating a Mother’s Day poetry anthology and invites submissions. They are also hosting a video contest for creative work with paper fibers.

Poet and essayist Abigail George, whom we’ve published many times, shares the fundraiser her book’s press has created for her. She’s seeking contributions for office supplies and resources to be able to serve as a speaker and advocate for others who have experienced trauma or deal with mental health issues.

Also, the Educational Bookshop in Jerusalem, a store that has the mission of peaceful dialogue and education, invites readers to donate new or gently used books (all genres) that have been meaningful to them, with a note enclosed for future readers about why the books were meaningful. (The books don’t have to be about peace or social justice or the Mideast, although they can be). Please send books here. US-based Interlink Publishing has also started a GoFundMe for the store.

We’re also having a presence at the Hayward Lit Hop festival this year, and we encourage everyone to attend this free, all-ages event! Many local writers will share their work and we will also host an open mic.

This month’s theme is Journeying Inward.

Lidia Popa seeks her true self, believing in the value of her quest. Samira Abdullahi acknowledges her scant resources and the obstacles before her, yet bravely forges ahead towards her life’s goals. Xavier Womack expresses determination to stay free of a relationship that has turned controlling and toxic.

Maurizio Brancaleoni crafts bilingual English/Italian introspective vignettes. Philip Butera reflects on noticing different types of flowers throughout his life, paralleling his different moods. Christina Chin of Malaysia and Paul Callus of Malta collaborate on haiku resplendent with action and sensory detail about the minutiae of human life, highlighting how even smaller thoughts matter.

Charitha Jammala’s mystical poetry probes the depths of the human mind and soul, celebrating our inner essence and integrity. In elegant poetry, Haroon Rashid reminds us to look inward to find joy and peace rather than expecting it from the outside world. Alex S. Johnson revels in the dreamscape of human consciousness in his expansive poem.

Beatriz Saavedra Gastelum probes the power of dreaming to explore human consciousness in Alfonso Reyes’ writing. Christina Chin and Uchechukwu Onyedikam collaborate on haiku capturing the delicacy and deliciousness of creative tension and human spiritual journeys. Fatima Anisa Ibrahim depicts the peace she finds upon sleeping, waking, and beginning a new day.

Black and white drawing of a young woman in profile view looking out to the side with two other smaller versions of herself seated with her head in her hands in front of her. She's next to a barren tree and clouds.
Image c/o Kai Stachowiak

Stephen Jarrell Williams’ poetic cycle drums up a sense of urgency, evoking human mortality and spiritual quests. Peter Cherches speaks of time and memory, incidents that make us, small puny humans as we are, question all that we remember. Mykyta Ryzhykh renders the dissolution of language and identity through creative poems. Alaina Hammond probes the effect of present experiences to shift memory and identity in her drama, set at an art opening. J.K. Durick’s poems also address identity in a way, pointing out human experiences we face individually, yet share with many around the world.

Philip Butera’s lengthy poem explores existence, seduction, and morality through a lens of mutable personal identity and the archetypes of Greek mythology. Two literary critics, Dr. Selvin Vedamanickam and Grock, explore the struggle of individual people in a world that seems indifferent in Dr. Jernail S. Anand’s epic poem Geet: The Unsung Song of Eternity.

Bhagirath Choudhary’s piece honors and includes the feminine as well as the masculine in what it means to be human, and divine. Jacques Fleury, a Black man from Haiti, asserts his belonging to the universal human family regardless of racial distinctions.

Patrick Sweeney writes disconnected short pieces with an element of whimsy that explore our curiosities and obsessions. Duane Vorhees’ poetry revels in earthy sensuality and explores questions of personal identity, reality, and fantasy.

Fantasy image of a leaping unicorn (bottom right) and flying unicorn (top left) in a sky full of dark clouds. Ground beneath is sunny grass.
Image c/o Dope Pictures

Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ images focus on fun and imagination in his images of children’s toys. Ochilova Ozoda Zufar shares a children’s story about travel, friendship, and new experiences. Abigail George reflects on her life’s trajectory, how circumstances made her the mother of words rather than human children.

Elan Barnehama’s short story places us back in our early twenties, when many of us were still making major life decisions. Still, many people past that age express similar sentiments. Tagrid Bou Merhi affirms the drive towards personal and artistic freedom. Anna Keiko reflects on how she has followed the call of poetry in her life. Chad Norman’s brash poetry celebrates the freedom to do and say and love as he wishes in his native Canada.

Doug Hawley relates his experiences in the natural vastness of mountainous and lesser-known eastern Oregon. Maja Herman Sekulic’s speakers lay exposed in the city, under the weight of human emotion as much as the heat of the sun and the relentlessness of the rain.

J.J. Campbell conveys regret, despair, and the lingering effects of a broken past. Mark Young’s poetry presents with wry humor dreams pursued and derailed. Susie Gharib’s work reflects the anxiety and discomfort of the human condition and her desire to find and choose peace. John Dorsey’s speakers seek various forms of comfort and stability.

Two women in dresses (saris) stand bent over by a tree. Painting is blue and purple with some warm sunlight on the right.
Image c/o Rajesh Misra

Brian Barbeito reflects on the life and death of his beloved dog, Tessa. Taro Hokkyo’s short poems speak to grief and loss, ending on a note of regrowth.

David Sapp speaks to the lingering psychological impact of physical and mental loss during the American Civil War. Dennis Vannatta’s essay explores the wartime inspirations for some of Chopin’s music and compares that with his own Vietnam experience.

Fadwa Attia reviews Mohamed Sobhi’s new play “Fares Reveals the Hidden” which explores identity, homeland, and belonging. Dr. Kang Byeong-Cheol speaks to loneliness, nostalgia, and empathy.

Atabayeva Gulshan examines loneliness through the lens of Chekhov’s writings. RP Verlaine’s work posits speakers surrounded by maelstroms of feeling, unable to do more than watch. Dr. Kareem Abdullah reviews poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s work on the power of human emotion and the power of the individual to transcend it.

Face of a young woman superimposed on an image of a chessboard and the ocean and the night sky and stars and galaxies.
Image c/o David Bruyland

Nigar Nurulla Khalilova implores deities, and her fellow humans, for compassion towards struggling people. Eva Petropoulou Lianou misses human kindness and simple pleasantries of life.

Graciela Noemi Villaverde speaks to the physical coziness of true and long-term love. Isaac Aju writes of first love between a generous young man and a strong young woman who doesn’t feel conventionally feminine. Makhmasalayeva Jasmina Makhmashukurovna encourages love and respect for the wisdom of parents.

Poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou reminds us to be kind and show common courtesy. Greek poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews Chinese poet Yongbo Ma about writing as a spiritual practice to seek goodness in a harsh world. Elmaya Jabbarova highlights the power of the poet to engage with the senses and cast a vision for the world. Eva Petropoulou interviews Egyptian writer Ahmed Farooq Baidoon about his hopes and dreams for the human literary imagination to guide and transform our world, and also Venezuelan poet Mariela Cordero, who celebrates the evolution of literature and the unnoticed acts of kindness around us daily.

Sayani Mukherjee rests within a Romantic poet’s verdant natural dreamscape. Bekmirzayeva Aziza’s tale reminds us not to forget as we grow up that we can find happiness through simple pleasures and days in nature. Maja Milojkovic reminds us to care for the planet, asking us some hard questions in the process. Writer and literary critic Z.I. Mahmud compares Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in its critique of humanity’s quest to micromanage and control nature.

Raised fists, brown skin of indeterminate race, painted background of swathes of gray, purple, pink, yellow, green, blue.
Image c/o Linnaea Mallette

Idris Sheikh looks to the awakening and rebirth of Nigeria from poverty and violence. Joseph Ogbonna mourns the Ottoman Empire’s genocide of the Armenian people. Marjona Bahodirova’s story illustrates the pain and loss many women in Central Asia endure, due to class prejudice and intimate partner violence. Bill Tope’s short story explores the evolution of a formerly open-minded person into a bigot and the long-lasting harm that does to his family and ultimately, himself. Taylor Dibbert recollects an encounter with an aggressive and clueless neighbor as Bill Tope and Doug Hawley’s collaborative short story humorously addresses social misunderstandings accentuated by our society’s prejudices. Patricia Doyne’s poem laments political aggression, power grabs, and the rise of autocracy as Daniel De Culla laments the political danger posed to democracies by a culture of brash ignorance.

Shahnoza Ochildiyeva explores the impact of literature on the lives of characters in Markus Zusak’s novel The Book Thief. Even though books cannot save them from the Nazis, they consider literature worth the risk of their lives. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa calls on humanity to seek knowledge and cultural advancement in the pursuit of peace.

Tarane Turan Rahimli speaks to the burgeoning literary scene and cultural heritage of her native Azerbaijan. Alex Johnson’s poem celebrates the enduring literary legacy of Patti Smith and William S. Burroughs and the Beat generation. Malika Abdusamat suggests possibilities for the role of artificial intelligence in language learning. Grock outlines the work and career of Indian poet Dr. Jernail S. Anand and considers his originality and suitability for a Nobel prize.

Christopher Bernard reviews Cal Performances’ production of William Kentridge’s The Great Yes, The Great No, praising the vibrant stagecraft while questioning the value of celebrating the absurd in a time of real political absurdity. Chimezie Ihekuna observes that the world’s ways have become upside-down, strange, and unusual.

Art Nouveau wallpaper, dark background, twining green leaves and branches, light tan flowers of different brightness.
Image c/o Maria Alvedro

Dr. Andrejana Dvornic, in a presentation at the Belgrade Book Festival, explores themes of love, longing, and loneliness in the works of Umid Najjari. Teacher Liu Xingli sends in poetry from the elementary school students of the Xiaohe Poetry Society in China’s Hunan Province, which explores themes of nature and society, love and compassion, and heroism and sacrifice.

Federico Wardal honors the legacy of actor Marcello Mastroianni. Texas Fontanella sends up some vibrant, avant-garde music. Cristina Deptula reviews the anthology White on White: A Literary Tribute to Bauhaus, edited by Alex S. Johnson with a foreword from Poppy S. Brite.

Vernon Frazer plays with splashy words and images. Rizal Tanjung situates the paintings of Anna Keiko in the developing history of world art. Scott Holstad probes Husserl’s philosophical understanding of phenomena and being.

Norman J. Olson evokes the wonderment and curiosity we can experience when we look at art and history. Isabel Gomez de Diego’s photography honors the Spanish heritage of faith and craft. Erkin Vahidov reflects on Uzbekistan’s proud cultural heritage. Toxirova Ruxshona highlights advances in modern world modern medicine in her piece on diagnostics and treatment for a variety of skin diseases.

Neolithic house on a partly cloudy day, clay and mud walls, thick straw layered roof and door and fence. Surrounded by hardened dry dirt.
Image c/o Vera Kratochvil

Bangladeshi writer Mahbub Alam expresses his respect and humility before God in his Ramadan poem. Jake Sheff draws on mythology and history as he memorializes his family members and other figures from the past. Nilufar Anvarova’s poem tells the story of an elder encouraging modern people to remember the past.

Dr. Lalit Mohan Sharma reviews Dr. Jernail Anand Singh’s epic work “From Siege to Salvation,” comparing the battles of the Mahabharata with the siege of Troy and affirming commonalities of our human experience. Cristina Deptula interviews Nigerian poet Uchechukwu Onyedikam about transcending cultural barriers through his international haiku collaborations.

We hope that this issue will draw you out to peek at the world from different cultural and generational vantage points, then pull you inward to consider the value and wonder of your own thoughts and psyche.

Poetry from Duane Vorhees

CURSE AND CURE

I am the witch who carries a coven within

and the convict who wears all his prisons inside;

the exorcist who fondles the beads and signs

and the amnesty dangling the keys aside.

MY TAILOR,

crisp in his pins and thimbles,

circles and takes my measure.

He garments me by his threads

and then applies his scissors.

EPONYMOUS

Think of the inventions

named for their inventors,

modest benefactors

made by Thomas Crapper

or infamous machines

that victimed Guillotine.

ANTIKARMIC

Ah! those lovenotes I sent–

Valentines back I get,

all addressed OCCUPANT

INANIMATE ENAMORATA

Pleeztameetyu / whaddyudu?

If I could do anything, I’d love to be your free flowing hair,

the fingertips of my follicles tickling your constant shoulders:

you, praising my full body to the skies–

I’d shear you clear off like a lamb’s wool in springtide!

or the palm softened wood of your habitual guitar

cradled into your passionate lap,

neck caressed to perfect pitch —

Even music, I’d gladly banish

if it meant pitching you!

the very odor eaters in your shoes,

if only I could embrace your soul —

But for a day only.

Then bedside

(eagerly coldly)

I’d abandon you

that’s as far as you’d ever get!

then, I guess I’d have to settle on

acting your bathroom mirror,

investigating your secret life

entire–

And I’d shatter your face into diamonds,

just like your illusions,

you peepfuckingpervert tom!

(leaving me in that case merely to wish upon

your vacant genital cavity

your manlacking pussy

handhungry tits,

that the

gap

in your ass beas

empty

as my harmless romantic fantasies–)

Christopher Bernard reviews Cal Performances’ production of William Kentridge’s The Great Yes, The Great No

Two actresses of color in dresses move about a stage in masks of older black and white images of white women.

MIXED EMOTIONS

The Great Yes, The Great No

William Kentridge

Zellerbach Hall

Berkeley, California

For some people the day comes

when they have to declare the great Yes

or the great No. – Cavafy

Cal Performances presented the Bay Area premiere of William Kentridge’s new collaboration, The Great Yes, The Great No, on a recent chilly, rain-sprinkled March evening, to a standing ovation in a warm, dry, and packed Zellerbach Hall in the “People’s Republic of” Berkeley.

Truly, it was manna to the baffled left these days of a monstrous politics. And a stimulus and wonder even to skeptics of both progressives and reactionaries; echoes of Cavafy, Dante, and Carlyle were clearly not unintended. Even of Coleridge and “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”; even of the Narrenschiff – the “ship of fools” of the Middle Ages and Katherine Anne Porter’s bleak, modern fable.

The work, co-commissioned by the ever-questing Cal Performances for its Illuminations series (the theme this year is “Fractured History” – a timely phrase, as we threaten to crumble into a humblingly fractured present), is the latest in the South African artist’s theatrical undertakings, culminating most recently in Berkeley with the amalgam of fantasy and prophecy Sybil two years ago.

In Kentridge’s new work, we are introduced to a cargo ship repurposed for refugees, ploughing the seas of midcentury on a voyage to escape a Nazified Europe for temporary asylum in the New World. In March 1941, the Capitaine Paul-Lemerle left Marseilles for the Caribbean French colony of Martinique, bearing several hundred refugees, including luminaries such as “the pope of Surrealism” André Breton, Cuban artist Wifredo Lam, novelists Victor Serge and Anna Seghers, and the anthropologist and founder of structuralism, Claude Levi-Strauss: a ship of geniuses, culture avatars, and anti-imperialists fleeing a continent of psychopaths for the utopia of the irrational, of “revolution,” of “freedom.”

A curious but relevant fact about Martinique: it was the one island Napoleon allowed slavery (according to the libretto) when he abolished it throughout the Empire – and why? Because of Europeans’ insatiable desire for the sugar Martinique was known for and could not produce “economically” without its slaves.

Kentridge haunts his ship with figures from multiple eras binding the imperial center to the tiny Antillean island: the Martinican poet, and father of anti-colonialist theories of negritude, Aimé Césaire, and his wife Suzanne; the fellow Martinican sisters Nardal, whose Parisian salon incubated negritude with the Césaires and African writers such as Léopold Sédar Senghor and Léon-Gontran Damas; and other relevant phantoms: Napoleon’s beloved Martiquinaise Joséphine Bonaparte and the Martiniquais, and future revolutionary theorist, Frantz Fanon.

We were treated with Kentridge’s characteristically virtuosic blend of spoken word, dance, dream scene and song, surreal cartoon and reversed film sequence, liberated signifiers, extravagant costumes and portrait masks for each of the avatars, dancing tools and animated utensils (including one of his signature mottos, a twitchy, goofily animated typewriter), in this modern version of classic singspiel.

It took off on a wildly surrealist ride across time and geography, with a collage libretto combining quotations from the figures named and such notable subversives as Bertolt Brecht. Narrative is not Kentridge’s strong suit, and his attempts in that direction usually run aground on pancake-flat characters and prosaic plots (he has yet to quite realize that a story without logic (his explicit pet peeve, in this work, being reason and all its affiliates) is like a decalcified hippo: somewhere between a glob and a blot. He is at his best when indulging his imagination and letting poetry suggest where prose merely deafens.

At the head of the ship stood its captain, an African version of the classic Greek Charon, boatman of the underworld ferrying souls to their final ends. The captain (a brilliantly insouciant Hamilton Dhlamini) dropped many of the evening’s most provocative lines. Another performance especially shone; Nancy Nkusi as Suzanne Césaire, whose recital of the verses of her spouse Aimé, from his poem Cahier d’un retour au pays natal, provided much memorable imagery. Not least was her haunting appearance in a black-and-white film scene, crawling across a banquet table surrounded by tuxedoed gentlemen with the heads of coffeepots and the cannibalistic appetites of all empires.

A constellation of quotations were projected or spoken or sung, or all three, across the magic lantern–like astrolabe that backed the stage: “The Dead Report for Duty,” “The Boats Flee, But to Where?” “The World Is Leaking.” “These Are My Old Tears.” “The Women Are Picking Up the Pieces.”

And a Chorus of Seven Women sing, dance and comment on the mystico-political voyage throughout, translated into the native languages of the singers: Sepedi, Setswana, siSwati, isiZulu, in the music of Nhlanhla Mahlangu.

A small, tight musical ensemble accompanied the proceedings throughout, led by the percussionist and composer Tlale Makhene.

For all the cornucopia of imagery, word wonder and music, my feelings about the evening were obstinately mixed. What I loved were the endlessly inventive visuals Kentridge can always be counted to magic out of the bricolage of his imagination, the 360-degree projections of the ship, the gimcrack costuming, the slants of film and dashes of music, the rich, sly humorous poetry, both visual and verbal, that illuminates, in flash after flash, as much as it entertains.

But there was also an element of agitprop, of heavy-handed prose hectoring and editorializing as it blundered into the show – the poetry, singing, told us endlessly more than the political prosing, shouting, which performed the bizarre act of shipwrecking itself. And when there are positive references to such monstres sacrés as Trotsky and Stalin, I, for one, am out. An artwork makes a poor editorial: when it trades poetry for slogans, it thrills only a few converts.

There is, unhappily, an even more serious point to make. Something about the enterprise rubbed me the wrong way from the start. Late winter 2025 on planet Earth hardly seems the best time and place to be celebrating “the irrational.” Whatever we are facing, politically, historically, it cannot be called by any stretch of the imagination a “tyranny of reason” or the authoritarianism of the bourgeoisie. In the current moment, I, and I suspect many others, feel trapped inside a global surreal nightmare from which we may not be able to escape. A surrealist fantasy celebrating unreason seems perhaps not the most appropriate message for a world on the verge of shipwrecking on the reef of insanity.

Those of us cursed with a reflexive skepticism may not care much to embark (without security guarantees) on so dubious a journey. For every “Great Yes,” there is sometimes a small but potent “no.”

_____

Christopher Bernard is an award-winning novelist, poet, and essayist and author of numerous books, including A Spy in the Ruins (celebrating its twentieth anniversary in 2025) and The Socialist’s Garden of Verses. He is founder and lead editor of the webzine Caveat Lector and recipient of an Albert Nelson Marquis Lifetime Achievement Award.