POEM BY C.R. DOBSON
MY PAREIDOLIA PROBLEM
Inrushing you, into any bidden eye—some unbidden. Always febrile, I.
Perspiring. Hot. Confused comportment. And
you always feral—wilding out from some strange sweven.
You’re keen to colonize.
Your clever strettos caroming off irides until
you incur or are granted visa into my fugue state.
My retina: eager for pareidolia. My lenses concentrate
your beam to the backs of my eyes.
The attitude of the image inverted and corrected until I see
you in the stratocumulus or in the dripping, drooling concentricity of wood grains— a piece of toast even.
but I forget I do. I forget again.
You are elision.
You are a tesseracting bird folding and shaking flat mountains of space and time.
You are bathos.
You are pap.
C.R. Dobson teaches literature at a university in South Korea. When not teaching or writing, he’s tromping through some forest or other getting dangerously close to wild animals, reading books, or lolling in front of the television with his fiancée and his cat, Momo.
POEM BY MICHAEL BERKOWITZ
All it takes is a whisper and language snaps
back on itself like the anchor-
thread of a spider’s web in the corner
of a new apartment. Suddenly homeless,
Anansi moves to Brooklyn
and sets up shop as the god
of narrative poetry. Let’s
rewrite the mythology. After all,
isn’t that the point? Of course
it almost doesn’t matter: the ﬁrst reading
of the ﬁrst draft gets swallowed
by the lawnmower outside the window
and blown back, before
you can repeat yourself, cut
back to where
you started. Anansi moves out
to the American Southwest.
In the endless, empty
corners he untangles a web
not even the wind,
who knows every story
but cannot tell them, can snap.
Michael Berkowitz is a poet, web developer and aspiring trapeze artist living in Somerville, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Sixfold, Eunoia Review and the Rampallian, and is forthcoming in CSHS Quarterly.
POEM BY PIJUSH KANTI DEB
A REGRETTING GREAT MAN
In the eve of his death
a macro-conscious great man
repents throughout his sub-conscious journey
on the way to his final destination,
realizes his life-long sacrifices
as incomplete, so ineffective
in putting two and two together
to welcome a better sun-rise for the mankind.
Indeed, he regrets from his depth of heart
witnessing the presence of the dirty hearts-
full of garbage of selfishness and cruelty,
those are still left untouched and unwashed
though ever-skilled to pour hemlock
into the nectar prepared by him with great care.
In shame, he becomes a piece of stone
exhaling his last breathing
and the people leave him alone standing
in a public place of interest beneath the open sky.
Pijush Kanti Deb is an Indian poet with more than 180 published poems in more
than 50 publications; imcluding: Down in the dirt, Tajmahal Review, Pennine Ink,
Hollow Publishing, Creativica Magazine, Muse India, Poetry Pacific, Teeth Dream
Magazine and others. At present he is an Associate Professor in Economics.