New Curfew

Now it’s a “suggested” curfew, dusk till dawn

for certain towns and it’s not hard to picture

the citizens of those towns huddled in their

homes waiting out the night. It’s not Covid

this time, with its masks and hand washing

its safe spacing away from your friend and

neighbors. It’s not all that simple this time.

No, this time it’s Triple E, a disease that once

was confined to horses and some other farm

animals. Now they only “suggest” that we keep

to the curfew. Now there’s a culprit that has been

a character in our lives for what seems like for-

ever. Don’t we all remember coming home on

a summer’s day scratching mosquito bites and

taking them in stride. But now, this nuisance

from years back is playing a part in all this. It’s

not hard to imagine them hiding in the backyard

planning their attack on us, if we don’t follow

the “suggested” curfew – they’re planning, they’re

plotting their taking over after we are all killed

off. The mosquito, that formerly unimportant part

of our lives, our summers, has risen up to take

their shot at getting control. They’re out there buzzing

that faint buzz we remember, trying to reassure us

and lure us out some time between dusk and dawn.

               Proper Form

I’m filling out the form, filling in

the blanks, you know the kind that

levels the field for us. We become

as we fill in blanks, like Name___

and Address_________ andother

relevant points of our identities.

They know us by what we put down.

Before they can assign us a number

they need to know a bit about us.

They do ask if we are a robot, which

of course I am not. I make our mark

next to that point, as if a robot couldn’t

figure it out and fill this out. They want

my Date of Birth_______________

my Phone Number______________

and in this case, for this form, they want

Full Name of Emergency Contact___

and an ominous sounding Return Airport

which notes that this would be where 

in case of emergency I should be flown.

This is the form before me, the one I will

fill out today. It lets me know what is so

important about me that I must share if

I hope to get my name on their list of

properly identified individuals who will

fill out any form put in front of him/her.

                   The End of…

A character came up with, “you can’t hide

from the End of the World in a goddamn

bathtub.” This rings especially true when

applied to our tub, white plastic fitted over

the old one, even the look-alike tiles are

plastic glued over the originals. There I’d

be sitting in the tub as the world burned up

all around me. The white plastic pouring in

like heavy cream, and I’m, of course, sitting

there becoming a tub of human chowder.

That’s if the world ends in fire, with global

warming and wildfires that seems a real

possibility. But if the opposite in the end

happens, destruction by ice would suffice and

all that was said about all that. I’d be sitting in

my plastic tub, teeth chattering, losing feeling

in my extremities, dozing off, ending up still

wondering whatever happened to the hot or

even warm water. When and if it comes, I’ll

probably run outside, stand in the middle of

my front lawn, hands at my side, looking up

then down, then all around, as it all falls apart

with me smack dab in the middle. So much

for that goddamn bathtub.

I don’t get used to pain.

What is life?  Yes, many people have been thinking about this word until now, and people answer based on the years of their lives, happy and sad events, truths and injustices, wounds and ointments. 

I will tell you that life is sometimes like a book full of riddles, sometimes it is like a trial road with endless joys and sorrows, a labyrinth from which it is difficult to find a way out.  Yes, there is a human race that is forced to get used to whatever happens in its fate, endure, feel, laugh and cry, and sometimes see the opposite.  In this way, there will be joy and pain.  I am a woman who does not get used to the pains she encountered in her life, and still cannot forget those pains. 

Life, if a person thinks about this word from the beginning to the end of his life, then Life is a Cluster.  Our coming into the world, the joy of our parents, our first step, our first spoken words, our innocent childish laughter, our love, our kindness, and parallel to these, our first fall and the first pain we felt, the first sound we heard, the sticks we ate, the lies we heard, our joy and sorrow and pain.  .  Yes, there are people who have ailments, some get used to these ailments and some don’t. 

Everyone remembers these pains in different forms and situations.  Someone’s pain from childhood, someone’s pain from adolescence, someone’s pain from adulthood and other different situations.  I have a problem with my parents.  There is a saying in our people that “the death of parents is an inheritance”.  I still can’t get used to this pain, I can’t get used to it.  In my life, I have faced various situations, lies, slander, thanks, good and bad.  There are some of them that I have not forgotten, which I still keep in my heart.  Because they happened in a situation I did not expect and by people I did not expect. 

My parents are the most painful pain that I have not been able to find a cure for, even after years have passed.  That they are not in this bright world, that I can’t see them whenever I want, that I can’t get their prayers, their advice at the right time, that I can’t get enough of their scent, that I can’t sleep like the aunt who forgot my pains by resting my head on my mother’s lap, that I can’t stroke her white hair, forgive me, mother, our worries,  I can’t say that our sorrows are old.  This pain is such a pain that it destroys a person from the inside, his pain and longing involuntarily bring tears to his eyes and cause deep sighs.  I still can’t get used to the words of my mother, “Have you come, my child, are you staying late, are you safe, my child, are you healthy, are you in pain, what do you want?”  My father’s sweet words, “My daughter, my daughter, this is my daughter, don’t hurt her, why did you hit her, why did you cry, are you healthy, my child, eat your food, don’t go hungry and study, let me give you the money, whatever you want”  My lost moments and pains that I can’t find even if I spend my wealth and time. 

This life is such a time that it passes before we open and close our eyes.  I’ll do it, I’ll do it, I’ll go sooner, but the time we couldn’t separate will come one day, from our inexhaustible wealth with us, from our ointments for a thousand pains, from our counselors who listen to us when we pour out all our pain, from our people who listened to our pain and threw theirs into the well, and gave everything for our joy.  separating from our existence.  This pain remains in our hearts regardless of how old we are, it causes pain.  It creates such a void that no wealth, no sweet words, no gift greetings can fill this void, no world’s riches, gifts, sweet words and attention of people around you can fill it.  Yes, I am a woman who lost her parents in her life and cannot get used to this pain of life.

Beloved, take care that your parents are with you now.  Be a salve for their pains, be ready for their services.  Time is so cruel that you can’t find them at a glance, even if you turn the world upside down, even if you scatter the world’s riches, and you won’t get used to pain like me.

Orinbayeva Lalezar Azadbay was born on April 8, 2003 in Tortkol district of the Republic of Karakalpakstan.  Her nationality is Turkmen, she knows the Turkmen language and Uzbek well. She graduated from the 24th general secondary school with excellent grades.  She graduated from school in 2021, and in the same year she became a student of the “Elementary Education” faculty of Tashkent University of Applied Sciences.  She works at school No. 24, where she graduated, and is a master of her profession. She has been writing articles since she was 20 years old and has students.   The first article is “The role of Makhtimkuli Firoghi in world history”.  She is engaged in journalism and opened a course.  Until now, several scientific and journalistic articles have been published in international journals.  She has participated in many anthologies and almanacs in this regard in Azerbaijan, Turkey, Belarus, Germany, Kenya, and European countries.  She also organized a personal anthology.  In the anthology “CREATORS OF THE YEAR”, a scientific article entitled “METHODICS OF MATHEMATICS TEACHING IN PRIMARY CLASSES” and an article by her students were published. 

Her creative work “Methods Of Attention Of Primary Class Students” was published in the Kenyan anthology “SERENITY A COMPILATION OF ART AND LITERATURE BY WOMEN” and received a certificate.  In the “Blue Sky Stars” anthology, her creative scientific article “EDUCATIONAL METHODS AND TOOLS IN PRIMARY CLASSES” and the articles of her students were published and received a certificate.  A scientific article entitled “THE SUBJECT AND TASKS OF MOTHER LANGUAGE TEACHING METHODOLOGY IN PRIMARY GRADES” was published in the journal of the scientific practical conference “New Seekers” and received a diploma, certificate, letter of acceptance, author’s certificate.  The scientific article titled “METHODS OF ATTENTION OF PRIMARY CLASS STUDENTS” was published and received an international invitation and an international certificate.  The story “JANNATIM ONAM” and the poem “ONAM” were published in the anthology “Tazim to you mother” which took part in the contest “Ship of Knowledge” of Russia and took the honorable 1st place.  The poem “Father and Mother” was published in his personal anthology “Future Scientists”.  The poem “Orzulari Osman Kiz” was published in the anthology “Youth of Uzbekistan” and received a diploma, a statuette, and a book.  In the anthology “Yoshlar Bayozi”, the article “My Profession: How to Be a Primary School Teacher” was published, and she received a diploma, a statuette, and a book.  , certificate, medal holder.  The poem “This is a world full of fakes” was published in the anthology “Uzbek women-girls” and received a certificate.  Currently, her creative works are regularly published in “Kenya Times” magazine and International sites and indexed in Google.  Holder of international certificates.

My grandmother

A butterfly flew to our house
Laughter also left us
The hands that caressed me as my daughter are no more
My grandmother flew to the skies

Life will be very difficult without you
You were in our hearts, spring blossomed
I miss my angel, I can't find it
My grandmother flew to the skies

This heart is waiting for you to give advice
But I know it's too late now
I can tremble when I hear my pain
My grandmother flew to the skies



I, Abdusamiyeva Iroda Sherzod, was born on May 15, 2009 in Sherabad district of Surkhandarya region. In 2016, I went to study in the 1st grade of general education school No. 67 in Sherabad district of Surkhandarya region. Currently, I am a 9th grade student of this school. I started writing poems since I was in the 5th grade, and I have about 17 poems so far. In the future, I want to become a lawyer. I intend to become a mature person who will serve my country.

The waves are the silenced groans of the ocean, seeking to be freed in the foam

May the life of youth flourish

I ran for fun

My sweet dream

I laughed out loud

May the life of youth flourish 

Walking with my grandfather

I wandered the gardens

I’m so tired

May the life of youth flourish 

Now it’s fun and excitement 

Laughter is the order of the day 

Picking flowers is a rule 

let the young life bloom 

Days spent with youth 

Light is called mine

They say that every minute will not come back

May the life of youth flourish 

In my mother’s arms 

On a sweet dream leaf 

He brought happiness with flowers 

May the life of youth flourish 

Every minute of my youth 

A sacred treasure for me

I will remember it for the rest of my life 

May the life of youth flourish 

Panjiyeva Dilnavo Shukurvna was born in the village of Khalqabad, Guzor district, Kashkadarya region. She started writing poems from 2007 to 2020. Currently, she has more than 150 poems.

Christopher Bernard will be reading at the Poets for Palestine SF Marathon Reading at San Francisco’s Bird and Beckett Bookstore. For a donation of any amount to the Middle East Children’s Alliance, a nonpartisan and nonpolitical organization helping all children in the region, poets can come and read at any time at the store on October 14th, Indigenous People’s Day. Please feel welcome to sign up here or email poetsforpalestinesf@gmail.com to be scheduled.

This month’s issue addresses our fears and aspirations: whether life will become what we dread, or what we hope.

Wazed Abdullah revels in the joy of the Bangladesh monsoon as Don Bormon celebrates flowers and wispy clouds in autumn. Maurizio Brancaleoni contributes bilingual haiku spotlighting days at the beach, insects, cats, and the rain. Brian Barbeito shares the experience of walking his dogs as summer turns to fall.

Soren Sorensen probes and stylizes sunsets in his photography series. Lan Qyqualla rhapsodizes about love, dreams, flowers, colors, poetry, and harp music. Ilhomova Mohichehra poetically welcomes autumn to her land.

John L. Waters reviews Brian Barbeito’s collection of poetry and photography Still Some Summer Wind Coming Through, pointing out how it showcases nature and the “subtle otherworldly” within seemingly ordinary scenes. Oz Hartwick finds a bit of the otherworldly within his ordinary vignettes as he shifts his perspective.

Kelly Moyer crafts stylized photographic closeups of ordinary scenes, rendering the familiar extraordinary. Ma Yongbo paints scenes where ordinary life becomes unreal, suffused with images associated with horror.

Sayani Mukherjee speaks of a bird’s sudden descent into a field of flowers and comments on our wildness beneath the surface. Jake Cosmos Aller illustrates physical attraction literally driving a person wild.

Mesfakus Salahin asserts that were the whole natural world to become silent, his love would continue. Mahbub Alam views life as a continual journey towards his beloved. Tuliyeva Sarvinoz writes tenderly of a mother and her young son and of the snow as a beloved preparing for her lover. Sevinch Tirkasheva speaks of young love and a connection that goes deeper than looks. llhomova Mohichehra offers up tender words for each of her family members. She also expresses a kind tribute to a classmate and friend.

Meanwhile, rather than describing tender loving affection, Mykyta Ryzhykh gets in your face with his pieces on war and physical and sexual abuse. His work speaks to the times when life seems to be an obscenity. Z.I. Mahmud looks at William Butler Yeats’ horror-esque poem The Second Coming through the lens of Yeats’ contemporary and tumultuous European political situation.

Alexander Kabishev’s next tale of life during the blockade of St. Petersburg horrifies with its domestic brutality. Almustapha Umar weeps with grief over the situations of others in his country.

In a switch back to thoughts of hope, Lidia Popa speaks to the power of poetry and language to connect people across social divides. Hari Lamba asserts his vision for a more just and equal America with better care for climate and ecology. Perizyat Azerbayeva highlights drip irrigation as a method to tackle the global problem of a shortage of clean drinkable water. Eldorbek Xotamov explores roles for technology and artificial intelligence in education.

Elmaya Jabbarova expresses her hopes for compassion and peace in our world. Eva Petropoulou affirms that action, not mere pretty words, are needed to heal our world.

Ahmad Al-Khatat’s story illustrates the healing power of intimate love after the trauma of surviving war and displacement. Graciela Noemi Villaverde reflects on the healing calm of silence after war.

Meanwhile, Christopher Bernard showcases the inhumanity of modern warfare in a story that reads at first glance like a sci-fi dystopia. Daniel De Culla also calls out the absurdity of war and the grossness of humor in the face of brutality.

Pat Doyne probes the roots of anti-Haitian immigrant rumors in Springfield, Ohio and critiques fear-mongering. Jorabayeva Ezoza Otkir looks to nature for metaphors on the corrosive nature of hate.

On a personal level, Nosirova Gavhar dramatizes various human responses to loss and trauma. Kendall Snipper dramatizes an eating disorder ravaging a woman’s life and body.

Donna Dallas’ characters are lonely, bruised by life, and drawn to what’s not good for them: drugs, bad relationships, lovers who don’t share their dreams. J.J. Campbell evokes his miserable life situation with dark humor.

Meanwhile, Maja Milojkovic savors each moment as she creates her own happiness through a positive attitude. In the same vein, Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa celebrates the power of a free and self-confident mind and the joy of spending time with small children.

Tuliyeva Sarvinoz urges us to move forward toward our goals with faith and dedication. Numonjonova Shahnozakhon echoes that sentiment, encouraging perseverance and resilience. S. Afrose resolves to move forward in life with optimism and self-respect.

Michael Robinson reflects on the peace he finds in his continuing Christian walk. Federico Wardal reviews anthropologist Claudia Costa’s research into spiritual fasting practices among the Yawanawa tribe in Brazil.

Duane Vorhees explores questions of legacy, inheritance, and immortality, both seriously and with humor. Isabel Gomes de Diego highlights Spanish nature and culture with her photographic closeups of flowers, religious icons, and a drawing made as a gift for a child’s parents. Federico Wardal highlights the archaeological findings of Egyptologist Dr. Zahi Hawass and his upcoming return to San Francisco’s De Young Museum. Zarina Bo’riyeva describes the history and cultural value of Samarkand.

Sarvinoz Mansurova sends outlines from a conference she attended on Turkic-adjacent cultures, exploring her region as well as her own Uzbek culture.

Barchinoy Jumaboyeva describes her affection for her native Uzbekistan, viewing the country as a spiritual parent. Deepika Singh explores the mother-daughter relationship in India and universally through her dialogue poem.

David Sapp’s short story captures the feel of decades-ago Audrey Hepburn film Roman Holiday as it describes a dream meeting between lovers in Rome. Mickey Corrigan renders the escapades and tragedies of historical women writers into poetry.

Duane Vorhees draws a parallel between Whitman’s detractors and those who would criticize Jacques Fleury’s poetry collection You Are Enough: The Journey To Accepting Your Authentic Self for having a non-traditional style.

This set of poems from Jacques Fleury expresses a sophisticated childlike whimsy. A few other pieces carry a sense of wry humor. Daniel De Culla relates a tale of inadvertently obtaining something useful through an email scam. Taylor Dibbert reflects on our escapes and “guilty pleasures.”

Noah Berlatsky reflects on both his progress as a poet and editors’ changing tastes. Sometimes it takes growing and maturing over time as a person to create more thoughtful craft.

Alan Catlin strips artworks down to their bare essential elements in his list poetry, drawing attention to main themes. Mark Young focuses on kernels of experience, on the core of what matters in the moment. J.D. Nelson captures sights, experiences, and thoughts into evocative monostich poems worthy of another reading.

Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ pictures get close up to everyday miracles: a beetle, car components, action figures, a boy in a dinosaur costume.

We hope that this issue, while being open about the worries we face, is also a source of everyday miracles and thought-provoking ideas. Enjoy!