by Heikki Huotari
The cubic foot of air will fill the
basketball but for a time – the basketball
will flatten and the air will find another
home, perhaps another paradigm. For
pointing out the obvious I’m asking for
forgiveness and for having failed before
to ask permission. My scenario is one of
hundreds – I just hope there will be
magic in the details.
as I’ve accidentally put both hands up
on me but, my bone buttons on the
wrong side, I might need an alter ego to
undo them. When you say Tomato I say
It’s a fruit. Now to the thing that’s
crawling on my neck I say You’re
crawling on my neck! The thing that’s
crawling on my neck says This to me is
walking. Gratitude and grief, I’d employ
one of each. I’d always have one cake to
decorate, one saint to take the fall.
There is a place for every vertebrate and
every vertebrate is in its place and I will
never either levitate capriciously or
lightly instruct others in capricious
levitation. All affected hearts are
hardened once the new moon turns its
face away and I say only two can play
and I say what’s to keep the one who
loved from wanting nothing?
Heikki Huotari is a retired professor of mathematics. In a past century, he attended a one-room country school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. His poems appear in numerous journals, recently in The Journal and The Penn Review, he’s the winner of the 2016 Gambling the Aisle chapbook contest. Forthcoming books will be published by Lynx House, Willow Springs and After The Pause.
Art by Issue 9 featured artist, Emily Truman
Emily has displayed work at various galleries, including “Nasty Women” in Philadelphia and “Vulvacular” in Chelsea, NYC. In addition to being in the process of becoming a teaching artist with South Central PaARTners through Millersville University, Emily holds a free monthly bring-your-own-everything collage workshop at Lancaster Art Studios, and teaches monthly workshops at The Candy Factory. Follow her on instagram at @collage__dropout.