sticky situations

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SUMMER 2005

STICKY SITUATIONS : JOT writers from Bezazian and Hall Branch Libraries; Deborah's Place; and Project Hope, Pausa

This brand-new issue of JOT features:

–Photography by John Brooks
–Writing from over 40 JOT writers

Read work from the magazine! For more information on how to receive a copy of the magazine for
$10 or to receive a year of JOT for $25, please call the NWA office at (773) 684-2742

AN ILLUSION
Epifania Ibarra

Today I was cleaning out my handbag
and found a wrinkled piece of
paper, stained and half torn. As I
began to read it, I saw it was an
address and a phone number. It was
information that, just by reading it,
transported me to the past. The
address took me towards someone
special. With the telephone number,
I had the opportunity to hear the
person’s voice at any moment, at any
hour. What beautiful memories that
small piece of paper in my bag
brought me. I thought about
destroying it, but how was I going
to destroy such a special part of my
life? What would I do with that bit
of paper that meant so much to me,
and that could cause some harm? The
solution was to let it go. I let the piece
of paper go but kept the memory
and everything it means. Now everything
is different. I think that even
my handbag misses the illusion that
disappeared one cleaning day.

PLASTIC FORKS
Jean Durkin

My upstairs neighbor, Mary, seems
to plant plastic forks in the winter.
Actually, they are markers for where
her spring flowers will bloom. For
months, the white forks are the only
things in the black earth. I tell people
that I live in the building where
the forks grow.
Early in the spring, Mary’s crocuses
start blooming. Sometimes the purple
flowers push against the snow;
sometimes they appear out of
nowhere in the sunspots. Then come
the jonquils, bright, blinding yellow.
Straggly bushes, which for months
have seemed like bundles of sticks,
explode in forsythiatic joy.
By this time the dog walkers and
baby-stroller pushers start stopping.
Through my open window, I hear
their oohs as they teach their children
not to pick the pretty flowers.
Bizarre pods begin growing among
the low, early-blooming tulips. The
dark purple hyacinths start sweetening
the air and the pods grow in
height. Three inches, then half a
foot, the stalks with green egg
shapes grow. Within another ten
days they grow about ten feet high,
then explode like purple fireworks
into these odd, Dr. Seuss-shaped
beauties. By then, Mary has filled the
beds with petunias and peonies and
has stopped the foot traffic.

IN A TIMELESS PLACE
Arthur Tennyson Docks

A mere thought,
A bit of whimsy,
Faith, the intuitive hope in the mind of all men:
A better life, a better world,
A brighter tomorrow,
Another time and place?
In a timeless place
Where there is only space,
Peace and essence to be you,
To be me.
A state of mind and being,
A billion light years and counting,
Away from a world gone mad,
A world in the wake of poison,
In the inescapable throes of Armageddon.
In a timeless place,
Imagine you,
Imagine me
At peace,
In total joy,
At repose
Under azure blue diamond-lit skies,
Beside a crystal river
Flowing between tall columns of pearlescent marble,
Black onyx,
Beautiful,
But so old,
An endless serenade on streets of gold.
Tomorrow never comes
For today never ends
In a timeless place
Where there is only space,
Peace and essence
To be, just to be.

STICKY SITUATIONS
Almaz Oko

Life is sort of like a marshmallow. It has form, yet
it’s tender; it can be easily smashed. But, like a
marshmallow, it springs back and recovers its shape.
If you stomp on it, maybe the shape is altered, but it
still exists. If you tear it open or bite it, you get a
sticky situation.