Poetry of Issue #5                        Page 57
Table of Contents	BY THEIR WORDS WILL YOU RECOGNIZE THEM I know two deaf mutes. The sister is silent, Angelic in quietude like a sunset. Her sub-group gestures in solidarity To a manual alphabet that's a work Of blessed theater to watch and revere. Mimes treat them like a cryptic tribe of seers. Story in movement, her way of existence. Her nimble fingers can pierce like alarms rung For emergencies or draw epilogues With all the detailed code of espionage. Her language is a composite for world peace. The brother speaks boldly in a flat gabble. He has long sworn off every translator. Awkwardly, his syllables simply uttered Evoke wrong notes from an upright piano: He struggles impatiently for euphony Like a news commentator badly prepared. Strangers inundate him with requests to stop Like pigeons on a statue coming to life. His shrill cries into darkness must continue: They are secret whale songs, alien to ears, Vital sounds one must become accustomed to. I know two deaf mutes. One is a silent Ray of light in a hushed melodrama. The other, singing notably off key, Mutters his tune with firm integrity.   Joshua Meander __	CAVERN OF THE OCCULT The tones of some Gregorian chant Hissing from the opening of a cavern Entice me to enter Even though I know it's occupied By the occult. Once in; will I encounter Goddess worship? If so, that's no threat to me For I've no grudge against my sisters. Will I be fed a meal That required no animal sacrifice? If so, I may return. I am no barefoot seeker, But am no skeptic either So I'd be willing to try To understand fire-breathing shamans. The minute I sense the hailing of evil Over good, I'll slip out of the cavern And try to seal the opening.   Joshua Meande __ ©Eve Packer : Tia Lina Day Care	DONE IN BLACK & WHITE Foreign films in black and white Depict the weird inner world As we consume subtitles in A chain reaction of sound. Images are two-fold: ghost with sickle. Tart images continue to baffle As the reel unties psychology. A human's profile or a beast well-dressed? A breeze is mistaken for smoke adrift. Storm clouds... no, dust on a released awning. Graphic S&M scenes, ghastly to watch, Or light on a sacred mythology? Nudes, charcoal-tinged and firm: Did statues worship us? Before the rolling credits On the screen, we see the beach, A cement lot with buildings Spewing forward only to retreat, Take after take. Has film reversed Revealing some of our wants? But the film is dim and clear.   Joshua Meander __