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 Fathom 2001

Cover

 

Inside Cover

 

Poetry

Gillian Brown (2)
Jessica Moore (2)
Annie Clifford
Paromita Admikari
Erin Whitmore
Wesley J. Furlotte
Aaros
Morgan Dambergs
Angelene T. Hutt (2)
Laura Kingdon
Sarah “Felloway” Feltham
Lauren Kirshner
Stephen O’Brien
Solange Hupe (2)
Nicholas Munroe
Steven Wendland

Prose

Valentyna Galadza
Neil Terry

Drawings and Photos

Marybeth Carty (3)
Emily Comeau
Jessica Moore (2)
Peter Herbert Langille (2)

[PDF]

Solange Hupe

 

 

University

There doesn’t seem to be enough
But I can’t make more
Because my breath reeks
And my arms are full of books

My skin is oily
And I’m too uncoordinated
To be on time for anything

Now would be a good time
To make an insane exit
To throw it all in the air
And stick my tongue out

The thought makes me smile
Then straighten
Then twitch
Then sob with frustration

The only easy place I know of
Is in my own imagination
Where all is freedom
Where time is refreshing
And not heavy
Or sharp

I can feel the hair grow out of my scalp
And my eyebrows are itchy.
I feel the way my teeth don’t align
when my jaw clamps shut.
I feel the burn of too much coffee in my
stomach
and the dryness of my tired eyes.

Suffering brings about results
opens doors
And sounds like applause
from people who don’t know you.
It is what is expected.

Meanwhile,
I force myself to read books
I might have liked
Had I not been required to devour them
In such a precise way.

Occasionally I feel enlightened,
My ideas actually feel good inside my
head,
But there is no time to relish it.
There is no time for real independent thought.

I paid an awful lot of money to be doing
this.
Something is wrong with this picture.

 

Violins

Violins fill me up
With life’s energy
They stretch my insides
So I can cover more space

The long notes
Drag me helplessly
Over the surface
Of an imagined lake
Nestled in a valley
Set on fire
by a falling sun

They lift me up
With every stroke
The sound is so much more
Than something for my ears.

As the waves vibrate
In harmony
with my emotions,
Music rolling through me
Pulling
Moving
Pleasuring­-
I am giving birth
To a secret feverish voice
That scorches my insides
And leaves me lying numb
In the vastness of the world.

 

last updated August 17, 2007 | © 2007 Fathom Publishing
poetry, prose, and artwork © individual authours | website created by Alana Paul