Saturday, March 31, 2007


"Talking Spring"
by Iri Kaijanniemi-Kilpelainen

I don't need
to speak today:

The fog is rolling
down the streets,

a trail of gentle sentences

is left

Iri Kaijanniemi-Kilpelainen, old enough, married enough: a Finn who gets high with music, literature & some people.

Saturday, March 24, 2007


by Brandi Hutchinson

Sometimes we encounter the attachment we hold with loved ones, and it can make us quite dizzy.

Nauseous even.

Sting them not... let yourself breathe and forgive their predictable ways. In fact, give them a reason to become unpredictable.

Brandi Hutchinson is an aspiring stranger, who understands no limits and likes to dance in front of pigeons. She's currently inspired by the writings of past men and women who lived in small apartments and smoked cloves all afternoon. Brandi likes to feign being a sex worker on her MySpace profile, but confesses she is only a scientist messing with rat brains. She is obscure and likes to write advice, but she lives in the moment and cares not for the future.

Saturday, March 17, 2007


by Seb N

I saw a Brewster Green '73 Firebird
with a bumper sticker that read
"I never thought I'd miss Nixon."
I laughed so hard
scalding coffee
shot out my nose
and I thought about
my old man.

My old man
was a rock-ribbed
My mom, too,
in a firm and quiet way.
"I don't care who you are
you're never too poor
to pick up your own front yard,"
they'd always say.

I didn't notice
the scam of
I was getting divorced;
he was comic relief.
"Another one-termer
just like his poppa"—
even my old man
called him a thief.

My old man
and I talked the
evening after the
towers came down.
He was watching CNN.
"Look at his face," he
told me. "That man
is a coward; you can see the panic
in his eyes."

Ir'ny is—
an AWOL flyer
touching down
with his helmet in his hand
adjusting his codpiece
under a banner saying,
"mission accomplished," my old man
choked on lost words—he went red and
spat and cursed.

My old man
saw the fear in his
eyes and
I saw it too
when he gave that big speech
about the architects of freedom
whose names he did not know—
a lost, little boy on a stage
that dwarfed him.

I saw a Brewster Green '73 Firebird
with a bumper sticker that read,
"I never thought I'd miss Nixon."
And I never felt closer
to my old man.

Seb N hails from San Jose, California, and he quite likes it there. Despite the handicap of a public education in Baltimore, he holds down a job and speaks reasonable English. He is a big, happy drunk and a rather hit and miss poet. Seb drives a Pepper Green 1970 GTO.

Saturday, March 10, 2007


"do your fucking homework now!"
by Chu Tu

why does the yelling
things we hear through
the walls

excite our ears closer

Chu Tu says: "My name is Chu Tu. I started writing poetry in July 2006. I have a real job and my interests are wiener dogs, Radiohead and anything else that feels like those things."