Baggage

He thinks

He can handle

Her baggage,

With time

He’ll understand

How wrong

He’s been.

Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “Rescue Dog,” his fifth book, was published in May.

5 poems (***)

***

strange pigeons

paint the night with their bodies

hungry children

beg while picking up pigeon crumbs

***

what does the right pike of a suicide exposed to the wind say?

what happens to the frostbitten left cheek?

mother’s biblical face turns silky as son pulls out graveyard surprise box from under his bed

***

internet people live the longest

a dog that died ten years ago still puts

likes on social media

instead of its killed dog owner

***

while God is sleeping the children press all sorts of buttons on his smartphone

and do not understand what this leads to

angels drink living water meanwhile and get drunk

what is the name of the little boy who will never become Jesus Christ?

***

wool-apple eyes of death

birds looking for a thought cage

and all the survivors turned into drowned people in a dispute with the ocean of the future

sand castles of childhood await the next tide

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. 

…

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.

I'm gonna be happy.

One day a flower will open for me,
The way will always be open to me.
It's always a fun day
I will be happy, believe me.

Spring will surely come for me,
Trees bloom early in the morning.
You can also have lunch at a glance at the flowers
 I will be happy, believe me.

A rose will soon grow for me Honey is really the happiest Summer is a big work for me I will be happy, believe me.

 Ilhomova Mohichehra  7th grade student of Zarafshan city, Navoi region, school No. 9.

I leave you

I waited for spring with tears,
I have been patient with you.
How many days off do you need?
You enchanted me.

Soft gentle tone,
You will be happy if you drink.
You alone and alone are to blame,
Please answer me, I’m sorry.

Live in peace my dear
Knocking your heart out.
This is very interesting
Don’t find me near you.

The thinnest thread is pulled tight,
And did it crash?
An ax under your feet
You hit it yourself. ok I’ll go

You are the king of my heart
Excuse me, I’ll go by myself now…

HAPPINESS

Heal my sick heart
Follow your path.
my lover is alive
A witness is not necessary, 

My creation is correct.

I hope you are the only one
I don’t look at others.
Even in the vortex of sad dreams
I swim, I walk, I don’t get tired.

My heart sighed, oh
Why the question, why do you ask?
Bathing in the mirror
Why wrap wires?

Don’t hold flowers, don’t wear masks,
Do not build a princess throne.
Darling, let me tell you this…
Your presence is HAPPINESS for me!

Tuliyeva Sarvinoz. She was born on November 8, 1999 in the Beruni district of the Republic of Karakalpakstan. 

She graduated from Alisher Navoi Tashkent State University of Uzbek Language and Literature (2023).
She’s the winner of the state award named after Zulfia (2019) and a teacher of native language and literature at Shaikhontohur District Vocational School, Tashkent.
She is the author of the poetry books “Song of Peace”, “I am a Girl of Truth”, and “Morning Poem”.