Bitter Pills, ready to swallow

The book that I announced months ago has arrived in my hands. Corona-quarantine caused a short delay, but it is now out and available and hungry for your eyes.

How to get a copy?
1. Amazon.com or Amazon.it has the book (see E. Martin Pedersen, Bitter Pills) for $15 or 13.81 euros. Shipping is extra unless you're lucky, then it's free. I'd love to get some sales here and even a review or two to boost the work. Gotta keep the editors, Dr. Agrawal and Dr. Kumar, satisfied.

2. CyberWit.net is the publisher, located in Allahabad, India. Go to their site and order from them. No idea what shipping might be. Ask them, they're very nice. And a very respected publisher of poetry from around the world.

3. You can get the book from me, martinpedersen1255@gmail.com, at a slightly reduced rate. Send me your address. Shipping in Italy will not be charged, but I may have to add something for shipments abroad. PayPal is easy, but we can work out payment somehow.  I'd be happy to hear from friends and strangers, just to chat too. Plus, I'll sign your copy if you'd like.

What is this book anyway? It is a small book, so you don't get your money's worth page-wise. Poetry-wise I hope so. It is a book of small poems, contemporary Japanese forms, haiku and mostly senryu. That means that you take a pill and then wait for its effect. Don't take too many all at once. Digest them slowly, make them last like candy. The mini-poems in this collection (52) were all published in international journals, so somebody thought they were okay. Let's see what you think.

I wrote these haiku for people to read and enjoy, even with their varying degrees of bitterness. I hope you will. In fact, I'd be thrilled.

Stay healthy, stay strong, stay safe,
Martin

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 89

DAY 89: In Milan I had to go out in the

street, I encountered human beings

there, I did not want to meet them, we

looked at one another suspiciously

over our masks, cold eyes only

met, connected and then disconnected

quickly as we passed going elsewhere.

Eyes over masks, no facial expression

to give a clue, it could be this way

for the rest of our lives, eyes

over masks, a smile so hidden, maybe

a hint in the little lines, it's hard

to hear 'I love you' whispered under a mask,

hard to see clearly when it brushes

your eyelash, eyes only then

until there's a cure, until

a vaccine liberates our primal urge

for connection, interaction, reciprocation

if it ever does, until the next virus,

maybe this is post-Aquarius, an Age

of Subtlety, of picking up on the

barely expressed, look into my

eyes/soul, can you tell what I think

as I speak in a foreign language,

or else we judge others by how

they dress, I hope not, make

eye contact sustainable.

I hope we learn to dive

into the deep pool in

another's eyes to swim

there for the time of

a glance, to understand

who is who, who is attracted

to you, who is true and who

wants to cheat you, only to eat

to beat you, to use you

I hope we can know each other

passing in the street

by eyes only peeking over a mask

as expressionlessly

we greet.