October 2007 Front Page

this issue Prose Grass Sprouts by Dave Besseling ... page 2 Articles article by Dave Besseling ... page 3 featured book Nakayubi Two: The Barnstormer Dave Besseling Thailand (currently) A collection of musings and impressions from various cities around the world. Dave Besseling was born 1979, Peterborough, ON. Canada. Currently interloping in Chiang Mai, Thailand and has spent the last 6 years living and traveling in a variety of countries to nurture a lateral appreciation of human diversity/mania and nurture to some degree a relevant capacity for self-awareness. All this and a deep appreciation for pretentious headshots.... To obtain a copy of the featured book or other publications by Dave Besseling please use the following link: LuLu www.lulu.com in the spotlight Emad Fouad Belgium Emad Fouad was born in the village of "al Faronija" in the Egyptian Nile Delta in 1974 and settled in Belgium in 2004. His latest book of poems, With a bruise from a bite of remorse, was written almost entirely in Ghent, but published in Cairo, like his earlier collections. Emad Fouad belongs to the generation of the 1990s, which abides by the metrical foot and has no time for the prose poem. Other features of his poetry are an intensive use of simile, his mixture of Egyptian dialect and standard Arabic, and his detailed drawings, which take on microscopic proportions in his latest collections. Emad currently has four publications 'Spirits wounded by the light', 'Boarding house of an old Don Juan', 'With a bruise from a bite of remorse' and 'Silk'. selected poem Three We were three me... and her and a green body buried carefully beneath our feet She said: Why do flowers grow here? I said: He died in love. We were three me... and him and a green body buried carefully beneath our feet He said: How can he die alone? I said: Because he is alone, still ... in it. We were three She... and him My green body under their feet when they stepped on the grass she stood on my heart, the girl I ordered the flowers to release their scent and when I furtively saw him crying my tears welled up on the petals of the flowers. by Emad Fouad