Submit your poetry and/or art for this site by emailing donkingfishercampbell@gmail.com before 11:59pm PST on Saturday, February 19th, 2022.

Sunday, February 13, 2022

Alicia Viguer-Espert

Artwork by Raundi Kai Moore-Kondo

Haibun CE 1

Seeing a UFO


First Time

They tried to convince us that dehydration, exhaustion and hunger were the only logical explanations. Climbing began at 6: 00 am: four Germans, five Spaniards, and two Italians. The ascension started smoothly, until half way through we arrived at La Cova del’Aigüa expecting water which was nowhere to be found. By then the sun had already burned holes on our naked shoulders. At 11:00 am the summit was ours, and the thirst almost unbearable. Found peels of lemon were sucked without hesitation. Without a tree, or even a bush, we lay down on the stony surface and hid our faces behind a small boulder hoping to recover.

None of us brought water, and the Germans, who we suspected did carry it, were out of sight. What were we thinking? Under the shade of the boulder, we opened our eyes at something blinking above, a shiny metal boat circled us. The Italians covering their ears couldn’t stop the disturbing sound to became louder, its vibration faster, screechy. Nobody moved for an hour, perhaps more. Water, we needed water. Were we hallucinating?  The temperature kept rising and without shade or breeze 100 felt like 120. A Spaniard announced, “I’m running,” and we ran from the sun, the shiny object, and the creepy sound. The metal ship lowered itself, as if inspecting our bodies return to life, not to the ground but close enough for us to glance inside windows. We ran fast, tripped, ran, tripped, until we reached a house at the base of the mountain. The Swedish couple stared behind clear glass for long minutes. Finally, realizing our state and, squinting at the strange object in the sky, opened the door ajar, placed two water pitchers, and two five-gallon buckets on the ground and closed the door shut. While drinking and pouring water over ourselves the unnerving noise and bizarre shiny boat disappeared. To this day, nobody believes us. 


Flying shark

circles our bodies

with cosmic fear




Dream A Little Dream by Raundi Kai Moore-Kondo

C E 3 Seeing


The Encounter 


Soil, still warm, beckoned us,

Underground hot springs, perhaps,

Worth to investigate, for sure.

A secret worth to keep between us.


The thermal silence included hollow 

Spaces, black holes like in a fisherman’s net  

Waiting to be discovered, colors altered

From light to dark as in a Persian carpet

When you move your hand across

The medallion covering its surface.


Cosmic mysteries attracted us.

The open plain, with no grass at the end

Of a hot summer, stirred our curiosity.  

That day, the scorched soil glowed

As if a street lamp was turned on,

Fumes rose like cigarette’s rings,

Slowly, white, dense. We coughed.


The slithering of a snake 

Disturbed us, and we searched,

Traded obscure stories of ghosts, 

Invisible jinns determined to find

What we were about. Us, determined

To find out about the glow, the snake,

The meaning of life at twelve. 


It didn’t look different than other

Frogs we had seen in the pond 

Behind the small grove of pines,

But its size and the charred snake

Coiled around its arm, shocked us,

Wanted to run from the clearing,

The flickering green light paralyzed 

Us, the bravest in the whole school.

We studied evolution, considered 

Other species replacing our own, 

Knew about brain size, and the head 

Of this frog was much bigger than ours. 


It stood upright, its forelimbs 

Extended four fingers in our direction.

Committed to send a message it spoke, 

Or croaked. I shivered when it touched

My arm, felt my upper lip quiver 

A warm liquid wet my legs and socks,  

My tresses caught fire, before my friend threw her arms 

Over pulling me away from green radiation.

She dragged me home, wet and burned.

Psychiatrists assured my parents 

The disturbed perceptions

Were due to psychosis.



  


Cosmic Distances

Rugged tongues from pine cones 
spoke to me in tongues, what else?
but not belonging to the Congregation
I could not understand a word.

As our tongues stopped communion,
they dried out, old fallen cones,
making it impossible to comprehend 
the liturgy of our sacred ceremonies.

It’s been a while since you’ve been home. 
that casa who’s walls we painted 
the color of bread and butter, where
potted geraniums never bloomed, 
and garden’s lizards not only ate 
insects but also all tender greens.  

My most precious treasure, the orange tree 
I imported from Spain, died suddenly 
five minutes after your announcement. 
If that wasn’t enough, yesterday the rain 
soaked the carton boxes where I kept 
your letters and 20 folded love poems.

Clouds, tea leaves, a gypsy palm reader
foretold the death of our potted garden.
Like planets held in place by gravity,
the universe conspires to keep us apart, 
nevertheless, we’re always aware 
of the proximity of our orbits, mostly 
to prevent a heavenly collision.

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