Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.
Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.
We begin this issue with an announcement. Bird and Beckett Books in San Francisco is hosting a marathon poetry reading on Indigenous People’s Day, Monday October 14th, to benefit the Middle East Children’s Alliance (https://www.mecaforpeace.org/) which provides humanitarian aid to all children of any race or background in Gaza and the West Bank. For a donation to the Alliance of any amount, you can choose a time and come to Bird and Beckett to read any one poem on stage that day. More information here.
Also, several of our contributors invite reviews of their written works. Please feel welcome to contact us and we will put you in touch with the authors.
Noah Berlatsky has a book of poetry recently published from Ben Yehuda Press called *Not Akhmatova*, which is translations/responses/arguments with the work of Anna Akhmatova, thinking about Jewish diaspora.
Daniel De Culla has a collection, Grandparents Dance, that he hopes to publish, and for which he invites reviews. You’re welcome to email him directly at gallotricolor@yahoo.com for a copy.
Duane Vorhees has a book of poetry titled Between Holocausts and invites pre-publication reviews.
Duane Vorhees also offers expertise on a variety of topics and is happy to have writers contact him and pick his brain! Please reach us at synchchaos@gmail.com and we’ll forward your message to Duane.
I grew up in rural SW Ohio (actually about 20 minutes from JD Vance’s home). I lived in Montreal when Rene Leveque won the provincial governorship and launched a French domination movement.
I spent most of my active professional career teaching for the University of Maryland to US military. dependents, and locals in Korea and Japan. I currently live in Thailand.
My PhD was on Immanuel Velikovsky (as a result I probably am one of the world’s leading experts, though I have not engaged in the field for a long time).
Lorraine Caputo’s verbal postcards serve as windows on South and Central American townscapes.
Brian Barbeito dreamily reflects on a suburban neighborhood where he used to live. Soren Sorensen’s art concerns liminal states and the uncanny: a calm suburban house at night with a vague occult reference, hazy suggestions of sunrises, and an arrangement with a dagger and rose. Robert Fleming reinterprets cows in a multitude of surreal directions. Kylian Cubilla Gomez zooms in for closeups of uncanny or unusual aspects of nature.
Mark Young intermixes text, line, and swathes of color in the artworks he calls ‘geographies.’ Patrick Sweeney crafts little vignettes through his haiku-ish sentence fragments. J.D. Nelson brings us another set of quirky monostich poems, peering into the world with gentle humor and curiosity.
Noah Berlatsky illustrates how art can liberate us from commonplace thinking. Kelly Moyer’s photography renders common objects, even a restroom, intriguing visual and tactile experiences. Grant Guy pays tribute to an artistic faction whose ideas he appreciates as they bring a sense of humor to their speculations on life’s absurdities. Doug Holder describes the visceral experience of listening to Etta James.
AG Davis conveys the psychological weight of dislocation in his poetic piece. Ahmad Al-Khatat’s short story evokes the despair and helplessness of soldiers in wartime who cannot return home. Alexander Kabishev evokes the fear and despair of the blockade of Leningrad in his memoirs, a time when home became unrecognizable.
Christopher Bernard envisions the impact of an imagined disaster tearing at the heart of the American city as Pat Doyne pokes fun at Donald Trump’s recent comments on urban immigrants.
Parichita Saha explores the roles of Greek and Roman mythologies in their respective cultures. Z.I. Mahmud explores how W.B. Yeats’ poem Leda and the Swan relates the themes of the Greek myth to the Ireland of his time, situating the story within his own world. Kahlil Crawford celebrates the power of language to provide shelter and refuge and to convey and inspire thoughts that go even deeper than human culture. Aminova Oghiloy pays tribute to the culture and scholarly work done in her region of Turtkul, Uzbekistan.
Texas Fontanella ponders whether the answers to life’s ultimate questions are simple or complex and whether we stand a chance of figuring them out.
Maja Milojkovic finds belonging and peace through a very personal faith and sees the inspiration of the Lord in nature. Michael Robinson reflects on the steady and caring hand of the Lord throughout his life as a Christian in two pieces, here and here.Mahmud Dzukogi speaks to the spiritual grounding people receive through faith, compassion, and ethics.
Jacques Fleury reminds religious leaders and adherents of our common humanity before God. He points out that racial marginalization can manifest within church settings as well as in the secular world and must be confronted as part of the practice of faith.
Mesfakus Salahin reminds us that we are all equal at the moment of death. Eva Lianou Petropoulou urges readers to hold onto innocence in a harsh world. Daniel De Culla captures a loss-of-innocence moment for a young and naive girl.
Some contributors speak to inclusion and belonging within society. Mykyta Ryzhykh laments the callousness of humanity towards the vulnerable. Nahyean Taronno memorializes the courage of student protesters who recently changed the course of Bangladeshi society. Rakhimjonova Mashhura highlights Uzbekistan’s efforts to include children with disabilities in the national education system.
Salihu Muhammad Ebba reminds us of the ubiquity of disease and biological predators and our shared human biological vulnerability. Raquel Barbeito brings a tender eye to her drawings of cats and people, crafting images with colors and lines softly fading into each other.
Many writers find their spiritual and emotional home with another person, or wish to do so. Jasna Gugic expresses the beauty of close, yet wordless, intimacy. Fadwa Attia celebrates the deep and steady love she has found with her partner. Mahbub Alam also speaks of a tender, intimate love. Faleeha Hassan expresses each of the ways in which a close relationship affects and inspires her life. Dr. Prasanna Kumar Dalai contributes delightful rhyming romantic sonnets. Dilnura Kurolova highlights the value of close friendship.
J.J. Campbell speaks to the years-long pain of lost love. Nosirova Gavhar shares a tragic tale where a man recovers from his injuries, yet loses the love of his life. Graciela Noemi Villaverde reflects on the emptiness of her home as she grieves a loved one. Otteri Selvakumar shares his hopes for an honest conversation between lovers to clear the air.
David Sapp reflects on his connection to his father across generations through their shared boyhood collections. Lidia Popa reflects on the memory of those ancients who have died and been lost to history. Isabel Gomez de Diego highlights the smallness of humans, mere children amid the size of nature and culture.
O’tkir Mulikboyev speaks to the depth and breadth of cultural and natural history in the voice of a river flowing to the sea. Sayani Mukherjee muses on rivers, and other natural phenomena, as reminders of impermanence. Utso Bhattacharyya celebrates the wisdom of ecologically sustainable development, including drawing hydroelectric power from moving water.
Jerome Berglund captures and celebrates moments and the flow of time in his mixed media art. Duane Vorhees speaks of physical intimacy, aging, and love and art in his poetry.
Elmaya Jabbarova compares human emotion to the rainbow, asserting that a wide range of feelings are natural. Sandy Rochelle urges us not to fear suffering, but to learn as much as we can by all of our life experiences.
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa illustrates the pain of social rejection and abuse, yet reminds us that every season passes, like the night back into day. Dr. Jernail S. Anand offers up wisdom for various stages of life. Ilhomova Mohichehra speculates on life’s mysteries while watching the rain and asserts that on a future sunny day, she will choose to be happy. Idris Sheikh conveys the strength of hope through a poem about seeds. Thaalith Abubakar Gimba affirms his hope for the future despite others’ cynicism.
It's raining.
When it rains,
I have a lot of questions.
Changed inside,
Gentle winds.
The rain doesn't stop,
There is no sleep.
Excitement in my mind,
It hurts like hell.
I wish he would stop now
Rustling voices.
Lek did not stop crying,
Cry like a baby.
These noises will stop,
Chehra Khan puts flowers.
Smallpox, tulip, rubella,
Like flowers want.
Between mountains & sea, through jungles, along lagoons, over silted rivers. Sometimes that Caribbean just below my sight, just beyond the vine-draped trees.
*
Long ago the sea disappeared. & now we enter these mountains heavy-green. Along banks of streams, in the folds of land, hand-built homes. Their families sell coconut milk & candies at roadside stands.
* *
I am searching for this city. The shantytowns, the industry, the suburbia that always mark the entry of metropolis.
But all I see is this highway through green.
* * *
Finally nearing the center. Traffic jams the highway of this late afternoon. Yes, the stores, the malls, the houses – but still that verdant range.
* * * *
When will we arrive? We continue going on & on. The canopy of high-rise apartments, skyscrapers & billboards grimed by time towers above the canopy of trees.
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
Soon we leave the high rises of Caracas
& enter the forested high rise of
the mountains. Misting clouds
dampen the morning highway. The
bus stereo playa salsas. A passenger
in back sings along off-key.
We wind towards the Maracay lowlands,
over banana-lined streams, past sugar
cane, through small towns. A white dog
chases another across a field along this
road.
By the time we reach the lower lands, the
slate-grey clouds shatter the cobalt-blue
sky & bright sun. Valencia Lake ripples
white-capped, dully, deep-blue-deep-
green in a bowl-valley of the sierra.
From Valencia to Barquisimeto, larger cities
of this country. Will it be endless urban
scenery now? Or shall I continue to be
dazzled by those emerald mountains,
that sapphire sky draped with bauxite
clouds, these rushing topaz rivers?
Through small towns, past cattle ranches, past
chicken farms – & yes, the verdant
mountains …
SANARE TRIO
At the tip of these Andes, the slopes surrounding Sanare neatly parcel into farms & cafetales. Distant mountains, dryer & rougher, fading to ghostly silhouettes in the warming day.
*
By noon the clouds are descending. The mountains fall into deep shadows. The aroma of roasting coffee wafts on the fresh breeze.
* *
This evening bathed with mist, the sun paints these sierra lands indigo-rose.
My biography
Lorraine Caputo is a wandering troubadour whose writings appear in over 500 journals on six continents, and 24 collections – including In the Jaguar Valley (dancing girl press, 2023) and Santa Marta Ayres (Origami Poems Project, 2024). She also authors travel narratives, articles and guidebooks. Her writing has been honored by the Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada (2011) and nominated for the Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Caputo has done literary readings from Alaska to the Patagonia. She journeys through Latin America with her faithful knapsack Rocinante, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Follow her adventures at www.facebook.com/lorrainecaputo.wanderer or http://latinamericawanderer.wordpress.com.
A Rainbow of Emotions
It rains, then the blue sky becomes beautiful,
The painting of a skilled artist is offended, resentful,
The hand of nature draws a colorful rainbow
This masterpiece is blessed, everyone who sees it is blessed.
Emotions are like rainbows in the sky,
Each color gives its meaning to a person's state of mind.
Creates resonance, affects the mood,
He wanders in his soul, dominates his existence.
The rainbow is a miracle, it has a scientific basis,
The limit sunbeam, in the drop of rain,
Changing colors over time,
Bends in an arc-shaped viewing angle.
How many times during the day do feelings, emotions,
As if it is raining on the heart, it brings sadness and longing,
Wherever the sun reaches, it brings happiness.
It brings a bright insight to see the joy of life.
Elmaya Jabbarova was born in Azerbaijan. She is a poet, writer, reciter, and translator. Her poems were published in the regional newspapers «Sharginsesi», «Ziya», «Hekari», literary collections «Turan», «Karabakh is Azerbaijan!», «Zafar», «Buta», foreign Anthologies «Silk Road Arabian Nights», «Nano poem for
Africa», «JuntosporlasLetras 1;2», «Kafiye.net» in Turkey, in the African's CAJ magazine, Bangladesh's Red Times magazine, «Prodigy Published» magazine. She performed her poems live on Bangladesh Uddan TV, at the II Spain Book Fair 1ra Feria Virtual del Libro Panama, Bolivia, Uruguay, France, Portugal, USA.
Third Eye, Remote Viewing, Memory, Psychic Impressions, Recall, 1750 South Ocean BLVD, Circa 1983
Instead of imagining the basics, I go further, not only to the grounds but to details. Details that would not matter to anyone, but that matter to me, to see. I went into a trance. I could see that the pool has a cement form around the perimeter and is white and there are black numbers that designate the depth at various places. A wooden structure that houses the pumping system. Thick green grass that meets cement walkways and an Astro turf putting ground. Planters. There is a container of oil that you are supposed to wash your feet with to get off any bit of tar that might have stuck to your foot on the beach.
A wild part of grasses that grow from the sand before the beach proper. You can’t step much barefoot anyhow if long it’s too hot. A towel must be put in the seat in the rental cars the seat is too hot. A newspaper box blue and one yellow out front. Cement fences. A building across that is white with yellow trim. The railings then are aluminum. Not fancy. Utilitarian and for function. Hurricane shutters same colour as railings. Tiles. There are tiles on the balcony floor. But some people have outdoor green carpeting. My friends are from Michigan. They will knock in the first few minutes. They live next door and can somehow know I have arrived. They will ask me to go out with them and I always will. Immediately. Before anything. And we will run in the sun and dive in the sea and be in the pool.
The waters of everywhere will cool and refresh and enlighten us. Later I can smell the iron-on prints in the cool t/shirt shop. The shirt will go on my tan and healthy shoulders. I never use suntan lotion. I don’t burn them. Now I burn in a few minutes. There are people fishing. There is a hedge. A palm tree. Ground lights yellow orange green pink and blue. Shells. A small plane flies a banner. A big plane gets me there. Eastern. Ward Air. Don’t take me away. Each time, I dread the idea of leaving. There is only a day left. I won’t sleep here tomorrow night. I have to go home. Don’t take me home. This is supposed to be my home. Don’t take me away. Just don’t. Don’t. Please don’t. But you did. Sadness. Impossible incredible sunken sadness.
