By Tylar Brown Location: Art Institute of Chicago Dangling low. You are a beauty in some eyes. Long, see through plastic strings are what attract us. Kids automatically gravitate towards you because of your singularity and ingenuity. Walking through your strings feels like swimming, but with no specific destination. Being … Continue reading Pénétrable de Chicago
I might as well be a fish, Swimming, Without a thought, without a will. I’m trapped in this glass. If only my confinement wasn’t real. Men. Musty, Scruffy. Yet smarter than I. They go places, See the world. I want to travel and meet people unlike myself. I want to meet those that can speak their minds, Do as they please, Explore new cities and … Continue reading I am Margret
We leaned against the theater building as if we were waiting in line for tickets, but the show got out over an hour ago and I’m still waiting for you to take me to dinner. So I un-roll the program and re-read the same actors statement. We are under a broken streetlight, but down the corner to my right is another couple waltzing in a … Continue reading Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind
Sound of snow twenty floors high the chill, so brisk sweeps. Be still listen silent city below. Rumbling train, slower today. Cloaked shadows eyes squinted heads tilted braced for impact. 25°F Feels ten less shuffling uptown and down across the street despite the storm and alongside. Writer: S.P. Marie Location: Wabash & 8th Continue reading Twenty High
Family-style, fiery delicacies. Please pass the tofu. Writer: Jane Newton Location: Chinatown Continue reading Chinatown Chiku
The wind of music swings open a gate. An arc of hand draws the line and bow, then a touch to dampen the timpani. The name of his lover rides to heaven held high by the hum of violins. Such is the sigh when flesh unfolds. The artist outlines chevrons in black, all the while imagining his lover’s face. There is so much he wants … Continue reading Seeing Again A Painting By Marsden Hartley at the Terra Museum
I Here I stand by the Chicago River Talking to you on the phone The sun is out but the morning is cold Lake- crisp-wind helps me breathe. I tell you how I feel. The river’s water is emerald green. Your voice brings me solace. I tell you of my morning with her. It is Thanksgiving and I can hear At the distance on State … Continue reading When I Hear Your Voice, I’m Well.