He was brought to the hospital in a serious condition. His internal organs were also ruptured from the strong blows. The doctors could not find out who did this until the police officers arrived. The mother, who was crying on top of the child, was punching her chest, but it was clear from her eyes that she was hiding something. The child was connected to an artificial respiration machine and was on the verge of dying. Only then did the woman begin to tell the truth.

- When they came to drink, I was in the kitchen, Akmaljon was playing in the corridor. As a young child, he asked for money for ice cream, not knowing what condition his father was in.

Unfortunately, his condition worsened. The doctors provided all the help they could, but the injuries were so severe that the doctors were helpless. They brought the mother in to say goodbye to her child. Pib slowly opened his eyes after hearing the sound of his crying mother. He removed the artificial respiration device from his mouth and began to speak.

"Dude, I didn't ask for ice cream, I asked for money for medicine. You said you had a heart attack. So...
He began to breathe heavily. But he stopped the hurrying doctors and explained with a sign that he wanted to tell them what he had to say.

- Don't cry, my father doesn't drink anymore.
- Well, let him die without drinking, instead of putting you in this situation, wouldn't it be possible to break his legs?

- Don't curse him, he won't be able to walk if his legs are broken.
The boy stared hopefully at the door. If his father came in now, he was ready to throw himself on his lap and hug him tightly. Not the cursed one, whose eyes were filled with blood and brutally beaten two hours ago, but he once carried him on his shoulders and He finally wanted to see his lover, who led him to the store and bought him cars. His father is not there, he did not come. After losing hope, he called the detective who was standing on the corner.

- Uncle, please don't arrest my father, he is a very good person. You will see that he will be a good father again as before. Because I will become an angel and always pray for him.
The experienced officer, who had seen various crimes, could not stop himself. The boy's life was cut off before he promised the boy with tears in his eyes...

However, the law takes precedence over any promises. Taking into account the fact that he has a family and other children, a lighter punishment was given. The father could not bear this sin and committed suicide several times in prison. they did not punish him for it.

I turned to the mother who told me this story with tears in her eyes:
- Your husband got out of prison, has he stopped drinking?
He sighed deeply, showing a smiling photo of his sweet 6-year-old son in his hand, his voice trembled and answered...

- Yes, he gave justice, but in order for adults to understand, is it necessary to multiply such angels? My child entered his father's dreams many times...

Traditional Uzbekistan

Uzbekistan is one of the oldest countries in world history and a country rich in many historical places and historical events. Uzbekistan consists of 12 regions and one autonomous republic and is currently one of the developing countries in every field. Now I want to tell about the most ancient and well-known places in Uzbekistan. My hometown is Surkhandarya region where is located in southern part of the country.

According to some facts, my hometown has a long-life history  which is located next to Amudarya and is the southernmost part of our country. Our nation is strong, brave and courageous, and also still the same. Even there are many stories and fairy tales about it. For example, there are our historical heroes Barchinoy and Alpomish, these people are symbols of bravery, loyalty and love. In addition, there are many historical places in my motherland, for example, 2000-year-old buildings and their remains are still available. The most important thing to say about our people is that they are very hardworking, open-minded, kind and simple-minded people compared to other regions of Uzbekistan. Our family consist of eight people, they are my grandparents, parents, three sisters and me. Elders in our country are wise, knowledgeable and experienced people. That is why, youngsters always respect and help them also ask some some advice for difficulties in their life. Every Muslim people in the world are aware of religious people in Central Asia, one of the most person Al-Hakim at-Termiziy lived in our country and his tomb is located in my hometown.

When it comes to my education. I am third course student in higher education where located in Samarkand. I think more people around the world know about this city, because here is most famous, historical and touristic location. Thousands of tourists visit this city in a year from verity parts of the world. Especially, Samarkand is  well-known for its historical places, mosques, and madrasahs such as Registon squere, Bibikhonim mosque, Guri Amir, Shkokhi Zinda and so on. Like all of  this places are releted to Middle Ages when Amir Timur and his generations lived. By the way, this city is a country where was the capital of Amir Temur’s country.

If I tell about higher education our country that it consists of four year for bachelor degree but for Master’s degree students study for two year. I study at Samarkand state institute of foreign languages, the faculty of English philology and translation studies. In the future I will be teacher and translator, because my major is to be translator or interpretor but my dad really wants me to be a teacher in higher education. So that I wil be both of them. In our institute there are more international teachers who are from USA, UK, Japan, Korea, Chine Turkey and so on. Therefore, our local teachers also have the same knowledge and practise. For example, all of teacher in our institute teach students with efficient methods and through modern high- digital technologies. Different holidays, compitations,conferences,camps and other meetings are held every month.

After graduating this institute I am going to study for Master’s degree abroad may be in the USA, UK or Turkey. I want to tell you about my parents, they are very kind, sincere, open-hearted, easy-going and my closest people in my life. I thank them for all the love they have shown and the opportunities they have created. In our country, it is very important to respect and honor parents. Because they grow you up by giving their everything. My dad and mum are the best people in the world. I clearly remember, I was in the 6th grade at secondary school, my father had to come from abroad, and I asked them to bring me a computer. I didn’t believe that he would bring it, but unexpectedly he gave me a new laptop of the latest model. I was very happy at that time. Because I was the only student in the class who had a personal computer. Also, they always emphasize that we should study and be good professionals. My sisters and I are always trying to make my parents’ dreams come true. I am very proud to be a child of such parents. 

Muhammed

Marnie had linked-in with Ellie and had developed a body suit with haptic feedback features. Ellie was able to render her lost daughter into real-time, similar to holographic girlfriend Joi—Ana de Armas, #KnivesOut—product belonging to the Nexus-9 Blade Runner KD6-3.7. Instructing Ellie to initiate Sareh, a holographic apparition. A digital avatar of Sareh was generated, magically, restored to virtual existence. #Ellie #shortfiction #interstellar #scifi …

Struck by this, Mia telepathically caused the quantum engine to levitate into the air, both hands spaced apart. Similar to teenage orphan and an avid Gunter, Wade Watts / avatar Parzival logged into the OASIS, except without the visor and haptic technology gloves. She had tilted and rotated the sphere like a Rubik’s Cube, visually, assessing the damage of PLUTO. The meteor orb, dubbed ATOM, was still fully functional, causing the working components to glow. #Marnie #shortfiction #scifi #nostelgia

A Review of The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu, Part VI of The Posthuman Series

by Joshua Martin

Part VI of Daniel Y. Harris’ The Posthuman Series, The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu (BlazeVOX, 2023) further pushes Harris’ project as an extreme experimentalist forward. Harris has created a kind of modern day Merz filled with, instead of the physical trash of the 20^th century, all the many incarnations of digital and cyber debris fused into an immense amalgam of dense poetics mingling words, numbers, symbols, code, script, and nearly anything and everything else in between. A 21^st century Dada filled to brim with digital nonsense and encoded beauty. The sections (themselves numbered in a disorienting manner, i.e. 2.14121, 3.3521, etc., which follow the infrastructure of  Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico Philosophicus) range from a word or a line to large blocks of nearly indecipherable text, all building upon each other as part of this vast and monumental ongoing experimental project.

This work is filled with neologisms and portmanteaus to rival Khlebnikov’s or Joyce’s greatest achievements (and just as untranslatable!). Harris’ work, which he dubs posthuman, could be called post-language, post-syntax, and certainly post any conventional poetic form we’ve come to expect or understand. Throughout The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu, Harris challenges not only what writing is and can be but also what it even means being human in this noisy, cluttered, and overwhelming age of information and technology. This project suggests a means of integrating the entire language of cyberspace with our conventional language(s) to form a highly idiosyncratic, fascinating, and disarming poetic vocabulary reaching to the farthest possible future, while also astutely representing our present age.

Nothing about this work can be easily classified or understood (if its even supposed to!). Harris’ work represents the absolute best of the notion of experimental writing. This book is for the most adventurous of readers who are willing to have their brains fried by a veritable feast of linguistic gymnastics. No one should go into this work expecting to be anything less than absolutely disarmed and sent into disarray by this captivatingly obscure, unclassifiable, and unbelievably erudite project.

The Posthuman Series requires anyone approaching it to question all their notions of what literature is, what can or does make sense, and where poetics can or might go as our lives become increasingly consumed by screens, our experiences rendered by algorithms written by coders in a language most of us cannot and do not understand. In this sense, Harris’ project is aligned perfectly with our times, as he collects all the overwhelming madness of our digital world, rearranges it into an amazingly expansive and all-encompassing poetics that reaches beyond all languages (there are many languages scattered throughout the text, not just English) to create a blueprint in poetry for the computerized (posthuman?) mind.

The words, forms, and phrases of The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu pass through our minds at a dizzying rate offering us little chance to catch our breaths. This is the Dada of now. Everything is intangible, massive, filled with more information than we’ll every be able to comprehend. We, as readers, can only succumb to its extremes and allow ourselves to be consumed by the massive scale of this undertaking, in awe of Harris’ skill, innovation, and fortitude. This is literature that makes us question everything, which is, after all, what art and, in particular, experimental art should make us do.

Daniel Y. Harris’ The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu is available here from publisher BlazeVOX.

Design for Multiplanetary Life (If Ever Required)       (499 words)

Flip?

Yah. Ho!  = to lay down back up and explain what’s going on here when the planet Rstyj touched Earth’s farthest out registers {which had been set to zero by wise elders way long back who, in the grip of this that and those silly superstitions, believe that such collisions were at least, remotely, if not less than, actually possible.} all qualified minds (whew) came up with OOPS this hippo; what was needed, in anticipation of the number of planets unpredictably expanding, there needed to have a flexible material set in place that when planet # 2 came out and there needed to be a seamless state-of-being between planets #1 and #2, this flexi-floor would stretch on its own providing seamlessly unified living surface for each and every planetary creature, each one of which, though having been forced into interplanetariazational existance, the stretching device would transform this interplanetariazationalism into invisibility for the living creature who would become aware of and be comfortable living on a virtual uniplanetary surface (and be happy to do so. yip This being way way much more practical organically pleasing underlayment of their plane of existence than the way way back there previously described roundy-bout sum early pages as “elaborate and rickety illusionary systems of catwalks, slim scaffolding, mind/memory machine tools, error traps, run-off diverters and pap-scagagglia la la pap-scagagglia, hooonley, with the necessary vision generators belief drowners hoit-toit Spangle! Co-lock’t Spangle! of a Spangle! and scads of other barely profitable jury-rigged illusion systems” and et-cetranoonia (back-whistle dumpster) which, of course, given the mystical nature of reality nowadays, may actually underlie this new-flangied flexi-floor stretched out under the multiplanetary string, on its own providing seamlessly unified living surface for each and every planetary creature {whether they like it or knot up died trying} so rich     sweat          whizz         DIP!         sweat      wheeze                       wheeze            sweat      the last part of this document outline of what the hells going on at this juncture in the sweet polite yet lightly scarred “lives” off this here these two chloroform twins Jan and Jon seeking an in-in-the-wall to entre into the architectural worksite on the corner known way back yas yaas waaaaay back as the trigger what fumbled off into the void of memorized existence the raw materials backhauling the first seed drop’t into the gulf of the Mass-Tragedy that raged up the eight blocks of the most of the main street knocking it out of economic commission and you do know what the hell THAT’s called why after all Willy (aka Albert and Victoria’s (evening wear required (WHERE’S MY GOD-DAMNED SUPPER!!) ) gently go, my townfolk, gently, eh ah, gently MANY LIVES BRUNCH FESTIVAL-POP PARTY pop PARTY   |||||| so now that you’re equipped of what’s underlying this whole splat, know that Jan and Jon have not done anything you may have missed but only keep creeping on rightward searching for a way through that green wall (we think)

                                           happy

    wheeze                   Hey! It’s Picklebackin’ Minnie            dark helmet              wheeze                squeak              sweat           sweat    Party!

The sun of my heart

As always, the sun nuzzled, dawned. In the morning, nature becomes more beautiful. My mood along with nature. When I look at the sun every morning, I remember an event in my childhood.
       I don't remember how young I was. I was around 10 years old. It was night. We went to bed. I, my sister, my brother and my mother. My sister has fallen asleep, and my twin can't sleep when he says little yes yet. He asked my mother a question. My relative is very slippery. Sometimes keeps asking me something from my mother. Sometimes I get angry and shout. My mother is not forgotten. He calmly answers my brother's questions one by one. Again he begins asking questions They think I'm asleep, but I close my eyes and listen and lie down. my brother asked:

-Mom...... Mm, 
-yes my son.
-Oh, why is the sun one? Why does he stand in heaven
-Who told you that the sun is one? There is a lot of sun. The sun is in every house. My brother looked at my mother in surprise. Honestly, I was also surprised by my mother's answer. My mother understood and explained it:
-The sun is in the hearts of every good person. The sun in their hearts encourages goodness.
-Oh it`s also in your heart. I know that, However do I have the sun in my heart too.

-Of course my little prince.
-oh? does the sun fit into my heart?
-Everything worships you in this broad heart.
My brother didn't understand this so well. But I had a very good understanding.
Every good man has the sun in his heart. Alternately all mothers. I realized that day, every house has a bright sun, and the sun in the sky is actually in our house. And my sun is my mother. The sun in heaven does not illuminate the earth at night. But my mother always shines brightly even at night. It should be said that the rays of the sun in the sky will fade one day, but my mother's rays will never fade.

   Bahromova Ifora

My name is Bahramova Ifora Sunnatillayevna. I was born on August 2, 2008 in Kuyi Chirchik district of Tashkent region. Currently, I am a 9th-grade student of school 29, Kuyi Chirchik district, Tashkent region. I am also a member of the “Parvoz” literary circle organized by Nargiza Asadova, a member of the Writers’ Union under the Lower Chirchik Hokimation. My poems and stories have been published several times in district newspapers and magazine “Gulkhan”. I am the winner of the Republican stage of the “Story of the Year” competition and several other competitions.

WHO AM I? PERFECTION SEARCHING PERSON!

I am sad now, far from joy,
my heart is beating more and more trembling, maybe my sins have increased "less",
More than a nightingale that sings of sorrow.

I'm laughing, don't say I'm happy
Don't be fooled by these words.
You too will stay someday,
When sadness comes...

No, I didn't say sadness was bad.
I have no complaints about it.
I don't smile when sadness comes,
I can't beat him.

Sometimes the heart breaks intolerably,
Try not to stop crying for a moment,
Wash your heart with tears,
My friend, these words are hard to hear.

But I didn't regret a moment of life,
I lived without losing hope, beautiful
I know that death is the destiny of all,
But I prefer my reward to death, I want to leave something, I'm sick.

What kind of illness do you call it, if there is a cure, not a disease?
When a cure is found and hearts are full,
Always be happy
He wakes up every morning saying Alhamdulillah!

If I'm wrong
when my words bring tears to my eyes,
Know that weak servants always,
love you GOD!

I am not alone
I have a piece of paper, a pen,
I am writing out of my heart, sorrow, pain..
If they ask about me one day, say this moment.
Who is he?
           A person who is looking for perfection!

Uzbegoyim Erkinova Charos Elbek's daughter was born on November 13, 2008 in Navroz neighborhood of Pastdargom district of Samarkand region, now she is a 9th grade student of school 105