Contributors * more photos to appear soon

Contributors * more photos to appear soon
Christy Namee Eriksen, kim thompson, Jon Schill

Thursday, June 17, 2010

A Rerun

NOTE: I went out tonight to celebrate Mexico's victory over France and lament South Korea's loss to Argentina. While I was out, I also lamented the Lakers' victory over the Celtics--I don't care about the Celtics but I hate the Lakers. Kobe Bryant is a terrible human being whose only redeeming value seems to be his ability to deliver like fifty three-point shots every game. Fuck you, Lakers.


This poem was part of the April challenge and I want to dedicate it to Christy and Rodrigo.


The Story of the Boy Who Tried to Run With the Giants (April 3, 2010)


This is the story of the boy who tried to run with the giants.

Always saw them strutting around, planting beanstalks

that reached up past the clouds, past where he couldn’t see

For the giants, the beanstalks were like the front stoop

where they spent afternoons getting bombed before dinner,

sipping their 40s and shooting the shit.

They poured a little out one day and that filled the Hoover Dam.


The boy tried to impress the giants by doing a wheelie on his bike

but his balance wasn’t right and he just skinned his knee

they laughed at him, told him to come back when he was grown

He spent the next week practicing every afternoon for hours

Before dinner, he would go and run his mouth to the giants,

too drunk to really hear him,

and tell them to get ready to see the coolest thing they’d ever see

they drunkenly nodded along


By Sunday, he was sure he had his acrobatic bike routine down

but Sunday was the day the giants played flag football in the Sahara

so the boy joined in in earnest

For their part, the giants played easy with him--

they liked having him around, didn’t want to grind his bones beneath their treads

and they even let him score the point that won the match.

He was so excited, he forgot to show them the tricks he learned on his bike.




Drunk White Boy I Heart You

Drunk white boy,
I heart you.

Let me count the ways!

Kick start jump and you’re up
hand standing on a grey keg with
beer foaming at your mouth,
you tiger you
you wild thing you.
Marley shirt fallen at your neck,
your balsa wood chest flashing flabby,
just the kind of man I look for
these long, lonesome nights.

So you wanna take
long walks on the sidewalk,
kiss my ground with your leinenkugel,
drape an easy arm over my shoulder
like a hit single.
And baby I’m amazed by you.
Do that hop onto every parked car thing again.

Keep drinkin, I’m swimmin, and you’re so deep.
Maybe General Vang Pao did invent sriracha sauce.
Yah I get it, I got the fever.
You loved Korea because you slept with so many Korean girls?
I love Korea too!
We have so much in common.

YES, I text back.
Let’s definitely get married.

Oh, drunk white boy,
where you been all my life?
No one can say hello to me in 3 Asian languages like you can.
No one calls me Ming like you can.
No one tells the boy I came with about the baseball bats in the trunk like you do.
Your penis is so much bigger. I know it.

Across your dank and dirty basement,
I only have folded eyes
for you.

Cheers.

i miss the light

i miss the light
i miss the dark that is broken by
one circle shaft of light

i miss sitting in the black of the back
waiting for
"10"
"5"
youre up
curtain call

i miss the beating heart all day
i cant eat
but i dont wanna faint
fritos and slim jim will get me through until tonight

and then
the pulsing in my stomach
slows
breath begins to even

sit in the black in the back
reciting lines to self
the zennest thing i'll ever do
just me and words
and breath and breathing

walk up
find your mark
UFO suspended light
beams down

and its otherworldly

time suspends
speeds up and does not move an inch

because...
i know this

because the words were written
long before i set them down to any kind of
page
electronic
or
inked

its like marriage

its like

sex

words body soul heart brain being
all just merge as one

and people say
"you just like the way we look at you"

... but ive never done it for you
only ever done this for
... me
because i need to
because i have to
because there is no other way but this

standing in the light

its the one of only few times when i am
100% plus the other parts all there

... i can hear you breathing
i can hear you shift your feet
turn your pages
sometimes
sniffle
i can hear a tear drop slide

and the words take shape

here in seoul
these days

there is no light to walk out into
i am waiting in the darkness of the under
maybe 10-20 feet below the surface of the city
i am waiting
for the
10
5
youre up
curtain call

i am waiting for the light
to call my name again

only next time
its not just gonna be one single shaft of circle light
not light just from the side

next time it says
"youre up"

we're all going blind

- kim thompson 15.49 thursday 17 june 2010 seoul, s. korea