14 January 2012

Cheryl Antao-Xavier

David D. Horowitz

B. Z. Niditch

David Sullivan

Bänoo Zan

Cheryl Antao-Xavier

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You Must Not Tell

You must not tell. It never happened.
She moved quietly through her life
Serving her abuser as he sat
At the head of the table.
Suffering his incestuous touch
The hatred of her mother
The studied ignorance of siblings.

You cannot tell. It never happened.
No one would believe her
There was no one to tell
No one came to her rescue
When the stones were thrown
He was the first to condemn
In the name of God
And the first to throw a stone.

Her dying words were for the God
Who had forsaken her.
You alone I could tell. You know what happened.
Where are you?



Bio:
Cheryl Antao-Xavier is a poet and publisher. She is a Goan (Portuguese-Indian) Catholic, born and raised in Pakistan. Her first book Dance of the Peacock was published in 2008 and her second entitled Bruised but Unbroken in 2011. She will shortly release her first children’s book Life in Maple Woods, stories that embrace diversity and promote integration. She has read her poetry at Canadian and international literary festivals. Her poems have been translated in Rumanian and Italian. She is the National Coordinator for the Canadian Federation of Poets and a member of PEN Canada and Amnesty International.



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David D. Horowitz

.
.
Heretic

Five hundred peasants sweat
To help repay one noble's debt.

Raise questions, eyebrows, doubt,
And bishops sneer you're not devout.

Refuse to spy for priest
And neighbors whisper you're the beast.

Read books deemed heresy,
And you're a devil, Pharisee,

Or Muslim. Stoke your flame--
Some freedom's here, and I'm to blame.


Bio:
David D. Horowitz founded and manages Rose Alley Press. Through Rose Alley he has published fourteen books, including his own poetry collections Stars Beyond the Battlesmoke; Wildfire, Candleflame; Resin from the Rain; and Streetlamp, Treetop, Star. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, including The Lyric, Candelabrum, and The New Formalist. His essays often appear in the online journal Exterminating Angel. His new poetry collection, Sky Above the Temple, is due out from Rose Alley Press in spring 2012. David gives frequent readings in and around Seattle, where he lives. His website is www.rosealleypress.com.


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B. Z. Niditch

.
.
Over The Dust

expectant voyage
in a hungry red eye
of the third world poet

seeing the first
of a starving
obituary

while the second
lieutenant on a veranda
and his ninth wife

feast on
goblets
oozing blood

the lean poet death
sentenced
without laurels

four gunshots
in an embraced
sunshine.


Bio:
B.Z. NIDITCH is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher.


His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including: Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and Art; The Literary Review; Denver Quarterly; Hawaii Review,; Le Guepard (France); Kadmos (France); Prism International; Jejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest); Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others.


He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.




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David Sullivan

.
.
"This Night Which Felt Like 1,000 Nights
for Nori Samir Gunbar Al-Yasseri, Abu Ghraib

Smell of his own breath,
rancid animal of fear,
underneath the hood
they have tied down snug.
Fear, he tells himself, is part
of being human,
only part, and theirs
smells worse than his. No Allah
breathes inside their fear.
They’re only pissing
on a book. Islam’s a faith
written on the tongues
of a million mouths.
The black hood is a given,
and alcohol-slurred
words of his captors.
Mohammed shuddered when he
felt the angel’s breath
traveling through him.
He thought he’d go blind or die,
but that’s how stones see.



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Bänoo Zan

.
.
Freedom Fighter

Love,
you are the eternal dictator—
colonizing the land of
spoken dreams,
suppressing the voice of
identity.

Celebrate your liberation from me.

I am painting your life
with death.

Does liberation stink?

What has become of me?
What has become of spirit
taking leave
of life?

Does freedom
drink the last supper?

Why don’t I mourn
your demise?

The smile on my face
caricatures
tragedy.

Was your land-love
so historic
you would not share it
with geography?

I am washing my hands
of you.

Did I martyr you
to let murder
live?

What have I done?
What have I undone?

Love,
I am the eternal dictator—
colonizing the land of
slaughtered dreams,
suppressing the voice of
nightmares.


Bio:
Bänoo Zan landed in Canada in 2010. In her country of origin (Iran) she taught English literature at universities.She has been writing poetry since the age of ten, and has published poetry, criticism, biography, translations and a book , The Song of Phoenix: Life and Works of Sylvia Plath, reprinted in 2010. She writes in Persian and English.


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