week sixteen

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roommate haikus

sam may not be tall
but clearly has the most style
per square foot of man.

chris is protecting
your family with logos
and color palettes.

when rory dances
even kanye and jay-z
wish that they were him.

jonah helps the world
by destroying deadly germs
through the nintendo.

austinrory hackett

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the last 24 hours.

begin 10 am. drive drive. st.george. drive. diana snapshots. drive. gotta pee!! drive. viva las vegas. in-n-out #3. savers purchases: wedding dress for dead bride costume, euro-trash jacket. burger king bathroom. wardrobe change. makeup on. fake tats on. tropicana. mandalay bay. byu loss on the big screen. happy hour sushi. run in with provo friends. crappy band named halloween town (isn't that a disney original movie?). drunken neighbors breathalizing regularly and finding themselves "sober" each time. "sorry guys, we're all on ecstasy.. we are." beer spill. fake g.a. wrist band fail. phoenix!! last of the mohicans soundtrack? the killlerrsss. weed smokin in the bathroom. officially deaf. the strip. bellagio fountain. time to go. drive drive. multi-car pileup. cops cops ambulance. hour long standstill. drift into sleep. honk we're moving again. drive sleep. sunrise. drive drive. provo. church clothes. solid relief society lesson by yours truly. end 10 am.

lindsay erickson

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phobia

this weekend i observed as my nephew (age 8) flipped through tv channels. he stopped on cage fighting just as a bout was getting started. i asked my nephew if he knew what he as watching and he replied, "a fight." i explained a little about the rules and style of this particular sport and warned him that it might get bloody. he reacted instantly by shutting off the tv and bolting out of the room. i sat on the couch perplexed by what had just happened.

later that day maggie and i took this same nephew, along with my niece (age 6), out for frozen yogurt. while driving home the subject of spoon color came up and i found myself defending my choice of pink. i asked the kids if they liked red because pink is basically a light red. my niece then said, "i like red but my brother is scared of red cause it reminds him of," then added in a whisper... "blood."

i asked him to confirm if this was true. he replied, "i have a phobia."

this confession of my nephew hit home with me and i instantly felt for him because when i was exactly his age i developed a phobia as well, one that my family gave me a hard time for. it was a fear of . . . bananas.

now is my chance to explain.

late one saturday afternoon, when i was just a tyke, i went for a bike ride with a friend to his neighborhood. we were nearing his house when we saw his neighbor standing with the hood of his vintage sports car open and shouting at his engine. it was obvious that he was freaking out about something interesting so we rode up the driveway to inquire. the neighbor explained that he had been called to the hospital where he worked and ran outside to jump in his car. just as he was about to get in something caught his eye. he stood lower and saw the tail end of a snake as it slithered from the drive way up into his engine block.

the man said that he could see the snake but it was way out of his reach. then he looked down at me. being the smaller of the two kids standing in his driveway, he asked if i would be willing to squeeze under his car and reach up and pull the snake out. assuming that lives at the hospital were at stake, i agreed to go for it. as i wiggled my way between the chassis and cement i realized it was a much tighter fit than i had expected. i likely would not have fit had it not been for the amount of leaked motor oil that greased the way. i continued to wiggle until i was entirely pinned under the car. at this point i realized a few things, it was very dark, very oily, and oh yeah i had no idea if this snake was poisonous. to top it all off i was stuck. attempting to reposition myself, i inhaled a deep breath and realized that the moist air was rancid. as my eyes adjusted to the dark i realized that just in front of me was a black pile of rotten banana. It was to much to take, i yelled out in terror and the man finally pulled me out from underneath the car by my legs.

i cant remember how or if the snake was captured that day, but i do remember the smell of that banana. it took me ten years before i have the courage to eat a banana again.

myron nilsson

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lunar parasite

alone on frost bit bleachers
i rest within your gaze
outstretched amongst your brights
and blacks

im saturated in this
in you
feeding off your gentle rays
like sweetly swollen veins

soaking in your glory
as you dance in my akward arms

pale moonlight shine
grace this lonely face
glide down my throat
like a drop
and fill me please
imply the lie
that i might lie
forever underneath you.

alan christensen

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that house should have swallowed me, i begged. last summer was free time and no car. last summer i walked and that night when i first noticed that house knees melted into road into sea. happiness was not the issue. rarely, if ever, i ask houses to consume me due to happiness. beauty belched from beach stoned exteriors. radiations of transfixed flying freedom convinced me to be the house.

the walks, probably, didn't help. everything about walking takes me to the north west. the rain. the dry. the truck stop that never stopped growing. the slug we named living in a bike box moldy three feet in grass we trimmed with scissors. and kept the slug. pink ovens. catching seaweed. all i ever tried to catch, seaweed. and moss. crows skipped,

like stones across parking lot puddles, used tampons. i walked home bare foot, pouring rain, splashing in those petite pools in love with naked wet soles. in love with former volcanoes, hollowed dead trees affording space for me. how kind. how in love. how october. take home-able

road bumps i drove over to make you laugh. the ground declared from a battle, a battle that never took place. the walks from free time summer last year remind me of the years i wish would consume me in the north west. portland lived alone on sealed cement i stained with salt water overflowing

from shot glasses. the trolley i swallowed up my atmosphere on, homeless or crazy or homeless and crazy dialogue is a magician forcing rabbits and women and ropes. i kept those dialogues...monologues...

sarah cutler
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