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62 pp
6 x 9.25
March 2009


Emerging Voices

Misery Islands,
by January Gill O’Neil

Spooky Action at a Distance,
by Howard Levy

My Painted Warriors,
by Peggy Penn

Red Canoe: Love In Its Making, by Joan Cusack Handler

door of thin skins,
by Shira Dentz

The One Fifteen to Penn Station, by Kevin Carey

Where the Dead Are,
by Wanda S. Praisner

Darkening the Grass, by Michael Miller

Neighborhood Register,
by Marcus Jackson

Night Sessions,
by David S. Cho

by January Gill O'Neil

The Second Night of the Spirit, by Bhisham Bherwani

by Joseph O. Legaspi

WE AREN'T WHO WE ARE and this world isn't either,
by Christine Korfhage

Through a Gate of Trees,
by Susan Jackson

Against Which,
by Ross Gay

The Silence of Men,
by Richard Jeffrey Newman

The Dishelved Bed,
by Andrea Carter Brown

The Singers I Prefer,
by Christian Barter

The Fork Without Hunger,
by Laurie Lamon

An Imperfect Lover,
Poems and watercolors by Georgianna Orsini

Soft Box,
by Celia Bland

by Eloise Bruce

by Catherine Doty

Silk Elegy,
by Sondra Gash

The Palace of Ashes,
by Sherry Fairchok

Eyelevel: Fifty Histories,
by Christopher Matthews

by Joan Cusack Handler

So Close, by Peggy Penn

Snakeskin Stilettos,
by Moyra Donaldson

Grub, by Martin Mooney

Kazimierz Square,
by Karen Chase

A Day This Lit,
by Howard Levy

CavanKerry Press LTD.
CavanKerry Press

The Second Night of the Spirit

by Bhisham Bherwani

The Second Night of the SpiritThese poems honor the human mystery. They celebrate the oneness of two great truths: that we are each other, and that we are each alone. They evoke love and loss, hurt and daily courage. These rare triumphs of spirit come alive through experience. Here are the dying father, the damaged child, the distraught and enduring mother, caught in the turn of their days by the brother who writes his heart out in these beautiful poems. Passionate feeling and powerful subject fuse their energy. The poet empowers us by enlarging our understanding. — Marie Ponsot

I feel like a privileged guest in Bherwani’s "anonymous gazebo." It is a deeply moving place to be, a real place as well as an internal stage on which a powerful family drama is played out in originally conceived, highly personal poems that make universal connections. The slightest taste of Bherwani’s potent concentrate of distilled grief is overpowering. — Chard deNiord


Bhisham BherwaniBHISHAM BHERWANI studied Fine Arts at New England College. He is also a graduate of New York University and Cornell University, and the recipient of fellowships and scholarships from The Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, New England College, and The Frost Place. He was born in Bombay, India; he lives in New York City.




Essex County, New York, 2006

My friend, his toddler son, aged three, and I,
along an Adirondack backwoods trail,
watch how the leaves have turned.  Beyond a veil
of mist, autumn’s fiery cornucopia
radiates above a brook.

                                      On a whim,
the boy lets go his father’s hand to skip
alone across the leaf-strewn, wooden bridge.
“It’s getting dark,” his father cautions him.
I think of my brother aged three, little,
nauseous with encephalitis, in pain
entering an endless night as febrile
illness permanently damages his brain.
Almost forty years have since gone by.
I’m through with nature’s inveterate cycles.