spin the attraction
I believed it when you said:
“Stay away from Okies.”
“Stay away from swabbies busting bottles off the rail.”
“Don’t bug Carlos.”
Tonight the perseids will glitter for an hour,
sputter. disappear.
I believed it when you said
you’d find a job tomorrow.
everybody’s falling
Sure, my palms were sweating. The way she smiled at you, the way she took your hand and placed it on her hip. The way you drifted from the orbit of relationship. This is how it works, right? One stacked in the warp and reeling. The other standing still.
Kathleen Hellen is the recipient of prizes from the H.O.W. Journal and Washington Square Review. Her debut collection Umberto’s Night won the poetry prize from Washington Writers’ Publishing House. Featured on Poetry Daily and Verse Daily, Hellen’s work has been nominated multiple times for Best of the Net, the Pushcart and recently Best American Short Stories. She is the author of The Only Country Was the Color of My Skin, Meet Me at the Bottom, and two chapbooks.She lives in Baltimore.
Village morning
Morning, the spring's canopy shutter,
The heart is ready for the feeling of purity.
Simple people, simple people,
The bag turns the black heart into colors.
I'm satisfied with sincere tunes today,
The sound of the swallow decorates my heart.
Walking in the city streets, I found out that
The value of such stones is like a stone.
By a rightful mistake of fate,
I'm in love with basil today.
That another place is like this,
Majnuntol, you didn't say, why didn't you say.
My magical world with moving walls,
The rooster crows in the early morning.
After all, you are honest, you are wonderful,
The rustling of trees, the dawn of my village!
Nilufar Anvarova, a student of the 8th grade of the creative school named after Erkin Vahidov, Margylan city.
Aujourd’hui je ne sors plus tant, pour mieux prier,
Hier quatre cent coups, pour l’heure l’encrier,
Autrefois les amours… Cité : scène ou décor.
Il est une légende et je vais vous la dire :
Jésus habite ici, avenue des Lilas,
Oui, le Fils de Dieu même, a choisi d’être là.
Certains racontent l’avoir vu – ils lui parlèrent,
Des nuages du ciel, du soleil, du bel air…
Il est l’esprit des lieux, astres, zénith, nadir.
*****
Poème de reconnaissance
Oh quel bonheur ! Oh quel bonheur !
Viens à moi sans cesse, oh l’Amour !
Oui je l’ai dit je connus jour !
À ton flanc n’ai sèvre en mon coeur !
Les songes infinis s’ébrouent…
Dans l’eau lacs clairs, bleus lagons, mers !
Oh notre Père un rien te voile,
Bénis la Sainte et toi l’étoile !
Le verger, la Lune et la Terre…
Vous me fîtes page de cour,
Et d’heurs en ors votre prière,
Passion, infini mystère,
Me porte aux ailes de vos Anges…
Que j’adorerai pour mélange,
D’une vie donnée en retour,
Aux yeux bleu de nuit, mon secours,
Enfant, nourrisson en vos langes.
*****
Comme une Comptine
Les pastels de bleus, d’ors, habilleront le Ciel,
Et partout sonne le refrain – bourdon de miel…
La musique en tout sens étalée là, éclate,
Et règne sans dessus – dessous – mer disparate.
Je me promène allant dépenser du tabac,
Et d’un air sobre, lent,
Marche au pas de combat…
L’homme est un animal ! Mystère, Loi des Fables.
Il vivra vieux, pensif et assis à sa table,
S’il connaît ce poncif :
« Au carrefour un arbre,
C’est ainsi !
Un Platane !
Je ne suis pas de marbre…
Voici,
Braire mon âne. »
*****
Esther
Ou : Petit Pied d’argent
Elle était là, mais oui Venise,
Venise est elle sans ses filles ?
Par le vieux Ghetto et l’eglise,
Oui juste là, Judeira,
Le trois. Et je la vis au bras,
D’une fontaine où brille l’eau,
Versée par un enfant… Halo !
Quand je lui dis « Quel est ton nom ? »
Elle répondit Esthera.
« – Quel est ton nom doux – étranger ? »
Me demanda t elle à son tour.
« Je suis Timothée, dis – je, et j’ai,
Tout juste là trouvé l’amour ! »
Puis la tendre, si belle au jour…
– Vous dirais je ici ? Et puis, non,
Poète n’est il roi du coeur,
Sans raison ?
– Il aime à mesure.
*****
L’amandier
A l’ombre d’un amandier,
En sifflotant, je sillonne,
Un champ ou la vie foisonne,
En vrai, joyeux jardinier.
Je n’avance pas, je donne,
Tout à ce cher amandier,
Le chant d’un paradisier,
Prouve que la terre est bonne.
Ma tête sous son calot,
J’aperçois au loin les bois,
Parfois je m’arrête et bois,
La fumée de mon brûlot.
Puis au soir, viens mon repos,
Je fume une herbe sauvage,
Et serein, je dévisage,
La lune, à tout cœur appeau…
*****
Jeunesse
Mon sablier de sang s’est vidé de l’aurore,
Oh ciel! Tant pis pour ça, tant pis pour les fusées,
A présent l’aube blanche ouvre ses ailes d’or,
Puis le lapis cinglant ceint mon front irisé…
Une charrette d’os à jeter dans l’oubli,
Mare sacrée des morts, le jour me reste à faire,
Les rêves trop lointains s’effacent dans mon lit,
Quand le matin sévère aiguise son mystère.
J’aperçois que plus loin : les nues sont entrouvertes,
Et repense à la Nuit ! Qui vient d’être passée…
En songeant que nos vies, quoique d’aucuns dissertent,
Ne sont que gouttes d’eau d’un océan lacées.
*****
Zut
Deux vieillards promenant leurs odeurs liminaires,
Dans le bus. Lui qui branle un chef un peu rassis,
Elle roide, quoique tremblant un peu aussi,
Tous deux fatigués, gris, d’une couleur de pierre.
Au milieu des cahots, ils sont là face à face,
Pensifs, presque rêveurs, une moue sur les lèvres,
Et pris au piège de leur destin qui s’achève,
Semblent consentir aux caprices de l’espace.
Puis, ils se lèvent, sortent dans la rue de Rennes,
Qu’ils arpenteront, quêtant pour leur quotidien
Cette vie échappée des cœurs que la mort gène,
Vers leur appartement aux meubles trop anciens.
****
Timothée Bordenave
Château d’Assat. France.
Pour European Poetry. 2024.XII.
A Brief Catechism
You find God in every step, Holy man! And you, holy woman, You will love Him life or death, Young or old, Sister or pregnant…
As for me, a poet in Paris, I will do my best for Him! It will be little, so dazzles me, His angel in my heart who smiles…
Little, yes! But already, a few pages, To say that one must be wise, As Saint Paul taught us…
To sing of those who, worthy, calm, Died for Him under the palm, Or took His cross on their shoulders…
Jesus in Paris
Paris – which is my city, with its thousand and one hundred churches, Sheltered, as we know, the flock of birds, It also welcomed the crowd of onlookers, Who walk its gray streets morning, evening, night, and day.
I lived there! Yes: as a child, I was there, I am still there, Today I don’t go out so much, the better to pray, Yesterday four hundred blows, now the inkwell, Formerly love affairs… City: scene or setting.
There is a legend, and I’ll tell it to you: Jesus lives here, on Avenue des Lilas, Yes, the Son of God himself chose to be here.
Some say they saw him – they spoke to him, Of the clouds in the sky, of the sun, of the beautiful air… He is the spirit of the place, stars, zenith, nadir.
Poem of Gratitude
Oh what happiness! Oh what happiness! Come to me constantly, oh Love! Yes, I said it, I knew day! At your side, I am not weaned in my heart!
Infinite dreams shake… In the water, clear lakes, blue lagoons, seas! Oh our Father, a trifle veils you, Bless the Saint and you, the star! The orchard, the Moon, and the Earth…
You made me a page of court, And your prayer, with golden happiness, Passion, infinite mystery, Carries me on the wings of your Angels…
Whom I will adore as a mixture, Of a life given in return, With the blue eyes of night, my help, Child, infant in your swaddling clothes.
Like a Nursery Rhyme
Pastels of blue, of gold, will dress the Sky, And everywhere rings the refrain – honey drone…
The music spread out there, bursts forth, And reigns upside down – a disparate sea.
I walk, going to spend some tobacco, And with a sober, slow air, March at the marching pace…
Man is an animal! Mystery, Law of Fables. He will live to be old, thoughtful, and seated at his table,
If he knows this cliché:
“At the crossroads, a tree, That’s it! A plane tree!
I am not made of marble… Here, Braying my donkey.”
Esther Or: Little Silver Foot
She was there, yes, Venice, Is Venice without her daughters? By the old Ghetto and the church, Yes, right there, Judeira,
The third. And I saw her on the arm, Of a fountain where the water sparkles, Poured by a child… Halo!
When I asked her, “What is your name?”
She answered Esthera. “- What is your sweet name – stranger?” She asked me in turn. “I am Timothy,” I say, “and I have
found love right here!” Then tenderness, so beautiful in the daylight…
Would I tell you here? And then, no, Isn’t a poet king of the heart,
Without reason?
He loves as he goes.
The Almond Tree
In the shade of an almond tree, Whistling, I wander, A field teeming with life, Like a true joyful gardener.
I don’t move forward, I give, Everything to this dear almond tree, The song of a bird of paradise, Proves that the earth is good.
My head under its cap, I glimpse the woods in the distance, Sometimes I stop and drink, The smoke from my firebrand.
Then in the evening, my rest comes, I smoke a wild herb, And serene, I gaze, The moon, calling to every heart…
Youth
My hourglass of blood has emptied itself of dawn, Oh heavens! So much for that, so much for the rockets, Now the white dawn opens its golden wings, Then the stinging lapis lazuli encircles my iridescent brow…
A cartload of bones to throw into oblivion, Sacred pool of the dead, the day remains for me to make, Dreams too distant fade into my bed, When the severe morning sharpens its mystery.
I perceive that further away: the clouds are half-open, And I think of the Night again! Which has just passed… Thinking that our lives, though some may argue, Are but drops of water in a laced ocean.
Damn
Two old men strolling their liminal scents, On the bus. He’s jerking off a somewhat stale head, She’s stiff, though also trembling a little, Both tired, gray, the color of stone.
In the midst of the bumps, they stand there face to face, Pensive, almost dreamy, a pout on their lips, And trapped by their destiny which is coming to an end, Seem to consent to the whims of space.
Then, they get up, go out into the street of Rennes, Which they pace
Timothee Bordenave is a French author of fiction, poet and essayist. He lives in Paris, when not abroad or in a countryside retreat. He has published many books, and thousands of blog posts, either in French or in English.
He is also an artist, as a photographer and a painter, and is currently represented by different galleries and websites.
Timothee was born in Paris in 1984, then studied literature at high school, then law, then he became a librarian. Today he is devoted to art, and to his writings.
Poet Pat Doyne invites writers to enter the Tor House poetry contest. Submissions must be sent via snail mail to the address in the link and postmarked by March 15th.
Poet Eva Petropoulou shares that Our Poetry Association, an international writers’ collective, has opened submissions for its spring contest, with a theme of justice.
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.
Synchronized Chaos Magazine also encourages you to watch short videos of international authors, artists, and activists interviewed on the Xena World chat show, including several of our contributors.
Poet Annie Finchseeks assistance with training a new app that will identify and teach different forms of poetic scansion. She’s looking for people who know how to do scansion manually to go over the collection of poems in the training set.
Essayist and poetChimezie Ihekuna seeks a publisherfor his children’s story collection Family Time. Family Time! is a series that is aimed at educating, entertaining and inspiring children between the ages of two and seven years of age. It is intended to engage parents, teachers and children with stories that bring a healthy learning relationship among them.
Essayist Jeff Rasley’s new book is out: It’s a story inspired by my own experience of a sophisticated California kid transferring to my grade school in the small town of Goshen, Indiana in 1965. It did not go well, when the new kid challenged the “gang” of kids who thought they were the cool kids who ruled the playground. For most of us, it was a blip in our lives. But one boy never recovered.
It is a short story, just 25 pages. So it only costs $2.99 for the ebook and $9.99 for the paperback. For some of you, it may evoke nostalgia for a time gone by (like using Juno instead of gmail). For others, it will be historical fiction from a strange time and place. Check it out at https://www.amazon.com/Came-Parkside-School-Jack-Thriller-Mystery-Romance -ebook/dp/B0DY9TKL6V
Contributor Kelly Moyer has a new book out, Mother Pomegranate and Other Fairy Tales for Grown-Ups. It includes the piece “The Pussy Whip” which she sent to Synchronized Chaos, as well as many other stories. It’s available here.
Contributing poet and Pushcart nominee Kurt Nimmo’s new book Texas and New Mexico: Selected Poems 2015-2025 is out and available here.
Our April 1st issue will be crafted by co-editor Kahlil Crawford. He’s a poet, musician, and essayist who has put together previous issues on Latin Culture and Electronic Music.
In March we will have a presence at the Association of Writing Programs conference in L.A. which will include an offsite reading at Chevalier’s Books on Saturday, March 29th at 6 pm. All are welcome to attend!
So far the lineup for our reading includes Asha Dore, Douglas Cole, Scott Ferry, Linda Michel-Cassidy, Aimee Suzara, Reverie Fey, Ava Homa, Michelle Gonzalez, Terry Tierney, Anisa Rahim, Katrina Byrd, Cindy Rinne, Norma Smith, and Kelliane Parker.
Author Justin Hamm is hosting a FREE online literary event the weekend of AWP, known as StayWP. This will include author talks, informative panels, book launches and networking!
Paul Tristram, like Whitman, sings of himself with easy confidence and exhilaration in life’s experiences. Philip Butera’s poetry speaks to the masks we wear and finding the courage to be authentic. Grzegorz Wroblewski digs deep into our fleshy reality, addressing the “meat” of our existence and our bodies’ undeniable needs. Tojiyeva Muxlisa also looks at our bodies, outlining common gynecological diseases and their treatments.
Dr. Prasanna Kumar Dalai’s poetry explores human emotion: romantic attraction, loneliness, grief, and confidence. Kendall Snipper speaks to the small and large sensations that bring back memories. Stephen Jarrell Williams looks back at the ‘paradise’ of his hometown in a moment of nostalgia. David Sapp recollects the wildness and local color of his boyhood days.
Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ photography captures a sense of whimsy and joy. A cat, Jean-Paul Moyer, partners with poet Kelly Moyer to create splashy, colorful paintings by moving paint around on canvas.
Life meets art in Alan Catlin’s work, as he recollects bits of his past and how he engaged with literary movements and cultural icons. Mark Young evokes moments of change, evolution, and decision in his poetry, as characters grapple with taking stock of themselves. Alaina Hammond’s drama explores the tension and commonalities behind practitioners of different art forms, and how and why they chose their crafts.
Umida Haydaraliyeva expresses the creative joy of an emerging author. Muhabbat Abdurahimova speaks to a poet’s quest for inspiration. Chris Foltopoulos’ guitar plucks out dulcet tones on his experimental music project Arpeggios. Chuck Taylor turns to writing as one of many ways to find solace during fits of insomnia.
Mahbub writes of a dream journey through gardens and his early childhood as Rus Khomutoff’s visual poetry takes us on a dreamlike quest through the beauty and mystery and riddle of our existence. Chuck Kramer’s work comes from a speaker of a certain age reflecting on their life and its meaning, finding purpose through experience teaching young children.
Ilhomova Mohichehra offers up her gratitude to her teacher. Bibikhanifa Jumanazarova poetizes about her mother’s wisdom and gentleness. Ibrahimova Halima Vahobjonovna celebrates the lifelong love and devotion of her mother as Sevinch Abirova contributes a piece of love and appreciation for a younger family member. Mirta Liliana Ramirez points out how she learned and got stronger from her past experiences, even from people who were not kind to her. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa speaks to the power of kindness and friendship, even online friendship across the distance, to affect our lives.
Mesfakus Salahin recollects the joy of young love on a warm evening. Xavier Womack speaks of a crush and the desire for a deep connection with a classmate. Anna Keiko speaks to the joy, strength, and staying power of true love. Jeannette Tiburcio Marquez evokes the joy and sweet surrender of ballroom dance with a romantic partner.
Kristy Raines’ poetry explores both interpersonal romantic love and human compassion for the world. Peter Cherches’ short stories probe how much we owe each other as fellow inhabitants of the planet, how far we will go for each other. Graciela Noemi Villaverde expresses her hopes and dreams for international peace among humanity, and Eva Petropoulou does the same for the sake of the world’s children. She also pays tribute to her deceased father.
Dr. Adnan Ali Gujjar offers up a poetic tribute to the grace and mentorship of poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou and her advocacy for peace and global justice. Dr. Jernail Anand’s essay argues for the value of art and literature for a fully developed and moral society.
Saidqulova Nozima sings of her Uzbek homeland as Munisa Azimova celebrates her Uzbek heritage and homeland in tender verse. Still others focus on the nation’s many accomplished writers. Sevinch Shukurova illustrates how the genre of poetry allowed Uzbek writer Alexander Faynberg to concisely and directly express his message. Nilufar Anvarova sends up a poem on the creative legacy of Uzbek writer and statesman Erkin Vahidov.Odina Azamqulova highlights the contributions of writer and translator Ozod Sharafiddinov to Uzbekistan’s literary heritage.
Nosirova Surayyo offers up suggestions for becoming fluent speaking in a second language. Maftuna Bozorova encourages readers to learn about other cultures through learning foreign languages. Abduraximova Farida Khomiljon examines various methods for teaching English as a second language.
Lazzatoy Shukurillayeva translates a poem by historical Uzbek writer Alisher Navoi that considers the vagaries of fate. Duane Vorhees speaks with a gentle humor to both intimacy and mortality. J.K. Durick’s work comments on transience: money, moments in time, even our health will pass. Kurt Nimmo addresses forms of living death in his work alongside actual mortality: being stuck in a dead-end job, being addicted, having one’s life’s work erased.
Mykyta Ryzhykh crafts a somber, deathly world. Jacques Fleury’s protagonist drowns himself in a quest for oblivion after his mental illness drives his family away, missing some potential positive news after his passing. Alex S. Johnson’s short story character decides against suicide when he encounters “spirits” who wish they had had more time on Earth.
Paul Durand’s piece explores how Andy Warhol transcended his ordinary, vulnerable humanity through art and fame. Taylor Dibbert finds a kind of strange and transcendent solace in the fact that great authors have written about the kinds of travel mishaps he experiences.
Pat Doyne lambasts Donald Trump’s plan to take over and gentrify the Gaza Strip by displacing its impoverished residents. Bill Tope’s short story traces how casual prejudice and homophobia can lead to violence. Abeera Mirza’s poetry tells the tale of how a young wife escapes domestic violence. Bill Tope and Doug Hawley’s collaborative story also presents hope as a wife bravely confronts her husband about his behavior and he chooses accountability and sobriety.
DK Jammin’ turns to his faith for moments of grace and solace in ordinary life despite a complex and sometimes harsh world. Sara Hunt Florez recalls the constant passage of time and encourages us to make the most of what we have, even in small moments with those around us. Ma Yongbo speaks to shifting reality and impermanence, human limitations and death, and the immortality he finds through creativity.
Isabella Gomez de Diego’s photos reflect the simple joys of nature, family, home, children, and faith. Maja Milojkovic offers simple kindness to a ladybug, releasing the insect to fly and dream freely outside. Lidia Popa reaches deep inside her mind to find inner personal peace.
Sayani Mukherjee revels in the small pleasures of a spring tea party. Rasulova Rukhshona celebrates Central Asian spring Nowruz New Year with a poem about loving grandparents, flowers and birds.
Brian Barbeito’s prose piece evokes his youth and personal creative awakening. Mushtariy Tolanboyeva expresses the lament of an impatient tree who wanted to blossom, but bloomed too early before winter finished.
Daniel De Culla’s piece illuminates his love for all of the planet’s life and recognizes that each species’ existence is inter-related. Adaboyev Maqsad’s essay suggests pathways towards ecological sustainability, elucidating economic and legal means of addressing environmental issues.
Murodjon Asomidinov also discusses economics and global justice, calling for empowering the youth of the world through financial literacy education.
Z.I. Mahmud’s essay explores feminist Indian writer Amar Jiban’s writing about the struggles of older single and widowed women and the need for all women to have education as a pathway to independence and financial security. Nurmatova Aziza relates the tale of a young woman who bucks traditional gender expectations by traveling to the city for an advanced degree.
We hope that this issue will be a source of empowerment, commiseration, and merriment at the many facets of our shared humanity and our shared connection with the rest of Earth’s life.
