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Art & Other Fictitious Imaginings
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Buying a house for the way the snow huddles on the front porch on the coldest day of the year is like loving a sad girl for the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles-- you won’t see it often enough to make it worth it. But you and I bought that sad house with the snowless front porch because you said we could use our imagination and that would be enough. I imagine lifeless snowflakes piling up in our bathroom and kitchen now.
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 here lies a civilian/ who took the wrong train to the amusement park/ he fought against the Transformers/ and died/ with his screams echoing against the metal tracks/ as the ride shrieked and screeched/ threw the railing onto his teeth/ dug carpeted floors into his knees/ safety belt digging into his gut/ broken jaw clenched shut/ wheels scratching lines of fingerprints/ on his back/ nails against sandpaper/ rubbed raw skin/ broken/ brittle/ bones/ sawed off fingers/ popping veins/
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 It was a weekly treat for me to attend an elegant, afternoon, “High Tea” at the beautiful “Mark Hopkins Hotel” after church services across the street. The “Mark” held a commanding view of San Francisco from its location atop Nob Hill, and provided a beautiful view of the iconic bridge, bay, and city below.
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By Tam Nguyen *Author's Note: The collection is meant to be an exploration of the speaker's identity through familial relationships, beliefs, and the past. "2020's Impression" first appeared in Heavy Feather Review.  Mountain climbing
Grandma said the calluses on her palms is a result of spending the very last years of her life climbing the mountain. My sister is climbing too, my husband already reached the top, my father settled on the peak a long time ago. I blamed her amnesia for making her lose track of how many kisses she gave me every time I went to see her, but never for murdering my name. Her saliva on my cheek is a compound of betel and areca and aged innocence. When she talked about climbing the mountain, I watched how her tongue taking the shape of summer but never the season. A tongue that never takes the shape of seasons is only capable of prayers. Along with callused palms, they make a trail for whom with the same bloodline to set foot on. I realized don’t just climb the mountain, we are obligated to find our way back to it. I chose a different trail to take despite the blood — the least I could do as a response to her prayers. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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 Nori and Gregor have always had a complex relationship, but after a 4-year absence, something compels them to reunite over dinner. What follows is a dynamic dialogue breaking down philosophy, art, love, and- most of all- the pain and possibility of second chances. Runtime: 1 hour. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
 I don’t know what will happen after I die,
As the Earth keeps spinning around the sun, With some battles fought, and some victories won, But I hope all the gods come back. The dog-headed gods, the bird-headed gods, The gods of beauty, and those of flight, The chained-up gods, and the vegetable gods, Those of darkness, and those of light. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
 Her manacles tensed as someone grabbed the chain and began to lead her out of the cell. She had lost track of the days she had been kept down here in the dark. Nothing but the pain and bleeding from her bound wrists reminding her that she was still alive. It was a wonder she had held on this long. Countless barely-touched food bowls covered the floor around her. The walls were covered in scratches and blood stains, remnants of her futile attempts to claw her way out. Nonetheless, she still lived, even if it was only as a shadow of what she once was. As the guard continued walking, she stumbled to her feet and out of the cell.
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By Jack M. Freedman  Red state infiltrator
Orange skinned dictator Yellow-bellied legislator Green paper separator |
