Editorial

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Our featured poet, James Reidel, counsels the young to never give up on a poem.

This poem may come when one’s language is inchoate –according to experts, the development of linguistic black box among humans varies from one individual to another –open for ‘delayed translation,’ meaning a version more mature and appropriate, at a later time.

True, some truths need the changing seasons to germinate fully more than the others, and poets must bide their time while learning to toss sodden napkins into rings of fire…

The great mother of all levelers, Cosmos, must come into play.

In art as in life, the human spirit is a flexible thing and manmade laws and systems are brittle to a touch, yet mankind doesn’t just break or fall apart –we all find ways to bend for the most part in order to mend especially the ties that bind us as human beings together.

Along the way the sun
Nudges my knees like a needy dog
The clouds spell surrender
But I do not

The Clouds Spell Surrender, Len Kuntz

How?

Again, Reidel has this epiphany:

And suddenly I realize I have been twisting the wood rail of the bridge in two different directions, while thinking the water would be the blue, the banks the green, the stick trees the brown, and the gray dots for the stones or stations you must climb upstream, to where a swale meets it, a meadow of mostly wild strawberry.

The Child River (with Monkey Burn), James Reidel

There is a meadow up ahead a challenging stream, and one must keep climbing to get there, station after station. Or stones, Reidel said.

Sadly, mankind still navigates through a narrow stream made more treacherous by the stirrings of an overlapping dark universe.

This darkness is what obscures the light in our immediate physical universe, if by ‘darkness,’ we mean the black thread in the fabric of humanity that threatens our tenuous existence at an alarming pace.

So we call this the Connective Issue, owing mostly to James Reidel’s catalytic poet persona, and this is The Syzygy Poetry Journal’s third.

All poets in the constellations birthed by this issue are unison in echoing our prayers and pleas.

Every single poem or verse in this collection symbolizes man’s attempt at  negotiating with the darker forces of human nature, or himself, in his climb upstream in search of the meadow.


[GIF Source: Lucea Spinelli]

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