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Ake, Jorn archive


January 16th, 2008

SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!!

This Sunday, January 20th, from 1 pm to 5 pm, Chop Suey Books in Richmond, Virginia (1317 West Cary Street - the near-campus location) is presenting readings by Popular Ink authors Nathan Alling Long and Jorn Ake. This reading is part of an exciting ongoing series featuring our authors and contributors.

Long’s writing has managed to slip into journals such as Glimmer Train, Indiana Review, Story Quarterly, The Sun, and Tin House. Long contends that this is because he writes such short pieces. He is researching how to collapse the ribcage of words, to get them into even smaller spaces. From Long’s Popular Ink book The Dog and The Last Hot day of Summer:

An itinerant worker wonders whether the bus can continue to take him where he wants to go

“Why waste your money, Ray?” Billy said at the station. He’d gone with me to get my ticket. “Get there the same amount of time using your thumb.”

“We’ll see,” I said back. It was hot, early summer, and the station’s air wasn’t running yet. The doors were wide open, and I could hear each bus pull up, the hiss of brakes and doors opening and closing.

“Ray,” he said, “there’re places you can’t get to by the dog.”

Ake is a Popular Ink author and a contributing editor for The Indelible Kitchen, and is the author of All about the Blind Spot and Other Poems (Popular Ink) and Asleep in the Lightning Fields (Texas Review Press & winner of the X. J Kennedy Award). From All about the Blind Spot and Other Poems:

George was a small boy. He had only one friend. More than one friend would require a larger boy. Her name was Molly. She lived in a small house across the street. George lived in a large house with a big tree behind it. The largeness of the house made George feel unsettled. In Molly’s house George could put his hands in his pockets and lean against a wall. He could close his eyes and hum. A hum in a large house could go too far. A small crack could develop or a leak in the pipe beneath the sink. A large house could explode.

Lee Capps, a contributor to our Indelible Kitchen, will also be presenting his work. Mark your calendars and please join us on Sunday, January 20 in Richmond, Virginia at Chop Suey Books for this very special event!


October 8th, 2007

FLORESCENT LIGHT by Jorn Ake

A boy in a hallway punches a girl in the arm, the sound like a wet sock falling into the bathtub, the hallway full of lead paint’s pale green light hovering over the black linoleum the girl knows by heart, every scratch the janitor’s spade made scraping old gum etched into her walk from fourth grade math to a third grade classroom where she’ll wait in the hallway with a boy who is as brutal as she is brilliant at numbers, as if someone just put a hot steel ring in his nose with a pair of pliers, knowing how bright his pain would be and how little he would be able to understand about it, except that it could be inflicted upon another again and again, his fist pounding her arm, dulling her brilliance into something as ugly as florescent light, their constant hum like flies in the ears,the time like slow suffocation beneath a wool blanket each morning, why go to school to be beaten, why stay at home to grow darker, why everyday he forgets himself, why she remembers him forever.


October 7th, 2007



READ MORE BY JORN AKE

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August 15th, 2007

Overheard in Airport by Jorn Ake

Several years ago, while I was living in Prague, I found myself sitting in the Milan airport waiting for the final leg of a horrible flight back home. Seated behind me was a group of Blackwater-types on their way to Iraq, jawing back and forth at each other. Lots of testosterone. At one point, one of the guys said, “Nothing metaphoric about getting blown up.” I thought, great line and wrote it down. The recent shots by James Nachtwey at 401 Projects gave me the rest.

Overheard in an Airport

Nothing metaphoric about getting blown up.
The air explodes like a motherfucker,
then there are pieces of bodies
all over you, someone’s brains and guts
and your blood on the ground.
Then if you’re lucky, they come right away,
put you in an ambulance
and take you to a hospital
where they cut off your clothes,
start swabbing you down and sewing you up.
Someone pulls a finger out of your pants,
so they count yours
8, 9, 10
twice
8, 9, 10
then throw it away.


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