Contributors * more photos to appear soon

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

Saturday, January 15, 2011

i think

back when

even just seeing

the bottles of vitamin water on the shelf

made me have to skip that aisle of kuwolskis


back when

just that green tinted incredibly hulk green

was like kryptonite

and id drive avoiding blue suv's


back when

i didnt know

but i knew

and so did everyone else

but i couldve sworn

- i really didnt know


i forget

how much is lived in less than

six


i forget

how short "six" really

is


that if it took

thousands for a heart to form

and thousands millions more

for this shape to house

that primordial sludge


then...

six

is just so

swift


... to have lived so many feelings

to have wondered so many things

to have questions answered by new questions

to have had too many to count on both hands and toes

six is not so much

for so much of this to have

been formed


sometimes i forget

how six is not

an

eternity


how six is just

one more than 5

and it wont be six

till

that

fabled resurrection day

when life re-borns itself


and somehow all the way from there

ive landed here

worried if i can make one year

when that's 1/6 of 6?


so these days are just hours

and these hours just minutes

and these minutes just seconds

and all combined still not enough for

the first

primordial sludge to have shaped into

a valve that beats


so i think

clearer than i have in 2

clearer than i have since the shaping of this 1

that


all of this?


will be like those shelves that now just make me smile to remember

how i can still recall that wonder of that tinted green photograph

how blue suv's now make me smirk

how i did not just get to dance with you i got to know your flaws that for 2 seemed impossible

how i dropped 15

and gained 15

and lost again

and now am somewhere inbetween

and still cannot count

all the valves of mine that have been broken

all the valves whose names i struggle to recall


and thats just in 6


so these seconds

are just so much less than 6


for waiting


- kim thompson. seoul. s. korea 22.45 sat 15 jan

Friday, January 14, 2011

homo-nym

the wind sang on the leaves
just at the first peek of the sun
as night was stolen by thieves
to welcome the world's most beautiful son

his eyes the color of cherrywood
that would blossom during his first sight
parents flushed with joy understood
for the new part of their heart at that warm site

something was odd, not quite allowed
his body betrayed him completely
his parents didn't seem to care aloud
blinded to any difference discreetly

the isolation he felt wasn't just in the town
somehow his synapses always knew
that he was destined for love unbound
something utterly brand new

life hindered by limitations strong
helpless against the struggle he fell prey
but for a change to last his whole life long
his parents would constantly pray

his struggles went unseen
strangled by the burdens he wore
school, friends a new version of mean
who would want someone so young to have to go to war

teased tirelessly for his weakness
lined paper a lockbox for emotions he would pour
black eyes + bruised thighs were signs of the bleakness
how can he maintain with a heart so poor

mono images flashing hopefully
observing the lives of other guys
losing sight of his hopepulley
burying himself behind a deepening guise

digital chats + private phone calls yield hope
sweet dreams of a better life to savor
are quickly eliminated by a daunting tightrope
who will be his saver?

he can't hold on
in his hope he is lone
he can't be strong
his hope is on loan

despite the optimism he has read
he's confined to his mental electric chair
salty lava turns his cherrywood eyes red
he's confined to his metal electric chair

trapped / trapped / trapped

the wind sang on the leaves
just at the last peek of the sun
as night was returned by thieves
to reject the world's most beautiful son

his eyes the color of cherrywood
that would fall during his last sight
parents flushed with anger misunderstood
for the old part of their heart at that cold site

something was right, not quite allowed
his heart betrayed him completely
his parents seemed to care aloud
exposed to any difference indiscreetly

the isolation he felt wasn't just in the town
somehow his synapses never knew
that he was destined for hate unbound
something not at all new

life hindered by limitations strong
fearless against the struggle he fell prey
but for a change to last his whole life long
his parents would cease to pray

his struggles became seen
released from the burdens he wore
school, friends a familiar version of mean
who wouldn't want someone so young to have to go to war

praised tirelessly for his weakness
digital sites a lockbox for emotions he would pour
crooked smiles + tears of crocodiles were signs of the bleakness
how can he stop with a heart so poor

color images imprinting hopefully
becoming the lives of other guys
regaining sight of his hopepulley
freeing himself from a deepening guise

pill containers + deep-punted wine bottles yield hope
terrible nightmares of a worse life to savor
are quickly eliminated by a comforting jumprope
he will be his saver

he doesn't have to hold on
in his hope he is not lone
he can be strong
his hope is not on loan

despite the pessimism he has read
he's free from his electric chair
twisted fabric turns his cherrywood eyes red
he's free from his metal chair

escape / escape / escape