Dream- Untouched

…,but in this life of error, ignorance, 
strife, unloved, unhappiness and injustice
Where nothing is, but all things seem to be the same
And we the shadows of the dream.
When I touch myself, touch the shadow,
But touch the shadow, I’m not touched.

First of all, our friend and collaborator Rui Carvalho has announced the opening of our Nature Writing Contest for 2022. This is an invitation to submit poems and short stories related to trees, water, and nature conservation between now and the March 2023 deadline. More information and submission instructions here!

Also, our co-editor Kahlil Crawford and I are announcing a Latin culture-themed issue, which will be October’s first issue. Submissions for this are welcome up through the end of September. Kahlil was inspired by the works of Fernando Sorrentino, who sent in a set of stories, one of which is published in this issue. Lorraine Caputo will write the editorial letter for that issue.

Finally, we encourage you to support assistance and education, including literacy classes, for Afghan people in need through RAWA (The Revolutionary Association of Women in Afghanistan). They are looking for people to translate articles from Persian/Pashto into English and to translate the English and Pashto articles on their site into a variety of other languages.

Chimezie Ihekuna continues his half-year countdown to Christmas with a poem about traditional children’s and family celebrations in his homeland of Nigeria. Christopher Bernard also speaks to the change of seasons, describing the early beginning of fall weather in rich but sweltering farmland.

Mahbub turns towards nature as well, describing a couple who finds the beauty of their love reflected in an intricate coral reef and the timelessness of the ocean. Christina Chin and Matthew Defibaugh collaborate on another piece that’s a different sort of look at a couple on the beach.

Tanvir Islam’s poem celebrates the love between a husband and a wife, while Alimam Bolakale sends us a children’s verse style piece on romantic love. John Culp celebrates peace and love in a clever poem.

Gabriel T. Saah urges us all to embrace spiritual love, while Musa Ibrahim gives gentle calls for nurturance in interpersonal and inter-group relationships. Ike Boateng describes a quite eventful month in the life of his community in Ghana.

Md. Nurujjajman relates a tale of obsessive love turned violent, while Abdulbasit Oluwanishola laments the decay of a friendship due to someone’s being distracted by greed.

Faroq Faisal renders the motifs of a children’s story with talking animals into a meditation on betrayal from those we hope to help. R.P. Verlaine narrates the common barroom tragedies of love lost and promises broken.

Jaylan Salah’s review of John Crowley’s film Brooklyn explores a love story through the lens of the Irish immigrant protagonist’s search for home and belonging.

Shaurya Pathania’s poems show people desperate to assert themselves one way or another, calling out to the lonely road or to empty sets of clothes.

Sanjeev Sethi’s new poetry collection Wrappings in Bespoke, reviewed by Cristina Deptula, deals with aging and fitting into our world through intellectual thought. Preacher Allgood also addresses the physicality of aging through a poem about traveling with an old car and an old body.

Ian Copestick highlights a sad irony of life with chronic illness, the imprecision of our current mental health treatments and the awkwardness of life within a body. J.J. Campbell’s poems relate the wisdom and cynicism that come with age.

Akinmade Zeal’s vignette presents a father who still believes in the importance of traditional ways of raising one’s social position and a son who’s more world-weary.

Sayani Mukherjee finds joy in her incarnate experience, writing of the sensual joys of eating a juicy peach.

Michael Pollentine speaks of the stages of death, both personal and ecological. Jack Galmitz’ pieces praise commitment to social/ecological ideals while examining the element of showmanship present even in sincere heroism.

Mesfakus Salahin celebrates Bangladesh’s independence and its historical founder, and thus his own national and personal identity. Marjona Jurakulova outlines the contributions of Islamic Uzbek scientists and philosophers to world history and encourages her home country to continue fostering research and knowledge.

Jeff Crouch and Diana Magallon’s mixed media piece renders the disintegration caused by war into a grayscale surrealist film. Meanwhile, Ubali Ibrahim Hashimu hopes for the ultimate victory of peace over political and racial conflict.

Michael Ceraolo’s short sketches of stage plays speak to broad social and economic justice ideas, while Fernando Sorrentino’s drama presents “justice of the lambs” inflicted by the wronged weak banding together against the strong and cruel.

Christ Keivom evokes memory and the detritus of past lives and loves. Abubakar Auwal grieves at the loss of a dear mother and seeks to turn back time. Jim Meirose presents a stagelike drama that portrays a certain character through a loose drama about the “funeral business.”

WV Sutra remembers a singular character who cared about words and ideas and music, who marched to his own drummer.

Federico Wardal celebrates invention and genius through an article on the rediscovery of an old and anonymous play written as a tribute to Shakespeare’s ingenuity.

Dr. James Tipton, English professor at the College of Marin, also explores creativity by reviewing poet and novelist Mary Mackey’s book about her poetry, Creativity: Where Poems Begin. She offers a sober, realistic look at poetic inspiration, not from impairment, suffering, or chaos, but from thought and observation.

Christina Chin’s second poetic collaboration, with Uchechukwu Onyedikam, touches on ancient history and spirituality. J.D. Nelson contributes some more wordy experiments while Mark Young continues to work with dramatic line and color.

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remember to laugh
 
laugh
 
sometimes all
you can do is
laugh
 
plans change
 
something
comes up
 
lines of
communication
get neglected
along the way
 
today is one
of those days
where i need
to remember
to laugh
 
especially when
the nurses tell my
mother she's an
hour early for
her procedure
 
somewhere
between the
paperwork
and a phone
call
 
the time change
was lost
 
laugh, remember
to laugh
 
there will always
be plenty of time
for revenge later
----------------------------------------------------------
in any traditional sense of the word
 
never fall in love
with a woman that
wants to stick a dildo
in your ass
 
she is incapable of
loving you in any
traditional sense
of the word
 
never fall in love
with a woman who
thinks she is a
dominatrix but is
unwilling to let
the world in on
the secret
 
never fall in love
with a woman who
puts money over
everything
 
friendship,
quiet moments
alone, even god
 
never fall in love
with a woman who
still seeks the privilege
of being an only child
well into her thirties
 
never fall in love
with a woman more
than two states away
from you
 
the distance will be
too much for some to
be able to handle in a
moment of crisis
------------------------------------------------------
still like the taste
 
i think my
imagination
is still in its
early twenties
 
everyone is
still naked
and ready
 
the drugs
still have a
good kick
 
and i still
like the
taste
 
sadly, the
body and
mind haven't
kept up the
pace
---------------------------------------------------------
violent in my dreams
 
i often wonder about
my death
 
it has always been
violent in my dreams
 
something tragic or
brutal in the daylight
 
i'd love to die in
my sleep
 
simply fade to black
 
my luck, it will be
upon insertion in
some unlucky
woman
 
the poetic way would
be mid-sentence, right
as the devil starts to...
--------------------------------------------------------------
a really short drive to crazy
 
i have always known it is
a really short drive to crazy
 
like maybe down the block
or around a fucking corner
 
it has been that way since
i was a child
 
they always told me i was
gifted
 
i read too much and knew
that was a kind way of saying
someone could be really
fucking crazy
 
i preferred savant but that was
my ego always speaking up
at the wrong fucking time
 
i was the type that never had
homework and could be seen
smoking cigarettes with the
homeless on the weekends
while writing poems with
a bottle of cheap wine about
even cheaper women
 
i look around this room
and see the cigarettes are
gone because of a lack
of funds
 
the wine is now a glass
of scotch
 
and the women are still
cheap
 
imaginary has some benefits
--------------------------------------------------

Once upon a time, a cat lived under a tree. The tree was the river side. It was a big mango tree. It was totally black. Many years ago it was grown here. It had given a lot of delicious juicy fruits to the people. People tested and enjoyed its juicy fruit. 

One day the cat came to live here. When the cat came and saw a lot of ripe and colorful fruits was in the tree. It wandered to see beautiful fruit. At first sight cat fell in love of those fruits. Suddenly a dog passed the place. Dog couldn’t see the cat but cat saw. Cat closed his eyes and waited fairly long time for the happening. The dog passed away, the cat thought. 

Cat opened his eyes slowly, spoke loudly and sprang quickly on the mango tree, because the dog stood in front it. The dog said, “Why do you spring on the tree? I’m your friend, don’t you know me?” 

Cat replied that you were not my friend, the relation between you and me was hunted and hunter only. Clever dog said to the cat that he was not an enemy. He also said, "When you were on the tree and the tree was full of ripe juicy fruits, you could give me some. We enjoyed them together. Sorry my cruel friend, I couldn’t do it for you, because I tried them, they were now sour." 

The dog looked tense and annoyed. 

"It didn’t matter, I liked sour, my mother gave me sour fruit in my childhood, you were with me, I enjoyed it very much. " 

Cat spoke wisely. "You are no friend, I never did anything wrong to you. I had a bitter experience, it was many years ago. I and my family lived in a village. I had two sisters and a brother, my sisters were older. One day a wounded dog came to our house. It said, "Help me and save me!" Mom didn’t want to help, but my soft hearted sisters wanted to help it. 

They said that dogs were our enemy, but this one was wounded. So it was our moral duty to nurse it. Mom couldn’t say anything except O.K. My sisters nursed and treated it. We got the dog out of danger and it came around soon. We were all happy and the dog stayed there continuously. It became our friend day by day. 

But one day my parents and brother went outside. Suddenly I heard a dangerous deadly sound, saw a heart rending sight. The dog killed my beautiful sisters. Would have killed me, but it couldn't find me.  Now I had lost my family and also my house. It’s happened because of your species. So I don't believe you! I hate you!"

The dog was ashamed and went away.

C         H          A         O         S

Tell me please...
If those miscreants buzzing around 
The ears. Has peace come to an end?
Are they the only dishes to serve people 
their freshly breakfast?
When will they sing a song of no-more and
Wave a hand of no return to this infidelity?

Tell those gila-monsters, those wicked lions
That bore horrible teeth in their tragic that
Their lives will perish away like an atom
In the whirlwind of desert when breeze in the 
Atmosphere hits the jackpot of peace. 

Tell me...
Who would we bear on shoulders again?
Is it the giant whales flapping in pools of 
Our wealth or the broken pieces of peace
Bloodly lying in every nook & cranny of the street?

I say this is not the faults of violence:
But a burning fire fueled by those
With great power in their hands and 
Soaked people's minds in bowls of
Deceptions and cups of woeful wonders.
With love and peace, no way for violence.

What does the word love
                    Really mean?
Is it only a wishful
                    Dream?
Is love two people sharing
                    Their lives
Together, forever as Husband
                     And wife?
Is love a promise we
                     Make,
A promise we should
                     Never break?
A promise to only be
                     With each other,
A promise their will
                     Be no other?
Is love a feeling
                     Or thought?
Or is it just something
                     We all want?
Is love a choice
                      We make?
Or is it a chance
                      We take?
Is love good or is
                     Love bad?
Does love make you 
                     Happy or sad?
Is love a simple touch that
                     Gives you chills?
Or a beating heart that 
                     Won't be still?
Could love be a gently kiss so
                      Passionately on the lips?
Does love hurts, does
                      Love cry?
Is it love when you 
                      Tears won't dry?
Can we love once? Can we
                      Love twice?
Or does true love happen 
                      Only once in life?


Is love real?
Can love forgive?
Can love heal?

I know love is real.
                     Because of pain,
I know now true love feels. 
When nothing hurts worse
                      Than it,
You, too, will know love exists.....