Monday, March 7, 2016Issue 06.01LDOC free art

Origins

Photographs by Rachel Jump

Rituals

Poetry by Jennifer B. Larson

Earthquake Weather

There are letters tethered to the tails of birds who soar in formation

take station

on the globe

shockwaves rock the surfacestones jolt unconscious fault lines creak subduction zones roll

underneath a sheet of ancient sediment

a one-thousand pound drum grumbles

to conduct the rhythm

You find the base of your spine attune to nature’s subtleties

you read

a book on Eastern practices once

and learned

that every-thing is energy

an enormous latticework

a tome of remedies found inside

us

Each Day We Unravel

A spool of thread strewnthrough the labyrinth

The sky is a closed-mouth choirhumming tunes your bones know

Wrinkles stream behind swans like cloud-spun airplane trails

Thunderbolts unnerve the grass

Faint light discloses faerie homes

Each day you unravel

you become moreYou

So, listen.

There it is, againFlapping rapidly through the boughs A warm gust summoning you home

Rituals When I hear drips in the sink the last minutes before sleep, it feels like two cold spoons clicking on my bare brains. I always get up to close the bathroom door when I hear the first ting. I startle when I think of unearthing the dirt from under my fingernails with an eyetooth. Excavate particles from my gums with a pin. I could file my frayed nails with the grooves on my jeans. Shed the enamel on my teeth by chewing bits of gravel. I could yank hangnails, send out a chainlink of pain. I could chop all the tangled wires into worms. I know how they come to life when I leave the room. I think about the metal threads that will spark and thrash after they’ve been beheaded. I wonder if I could’ve been a mother in a tribal nation. Could I celebrate my son’s circumcision? Rejoice when my daughter is swallowed by a crocodile? I did not land on a turtle’s back or churn the heavens by my hand, I did not conceive the son of an undead man, to now just sit here and seethe stilly. We didn’t survive centuries to shit in mud or piss in streams. Now, listen as drips plunk heavily in the sink swish lazily clockwise whistling anvils down the drain.

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Rachel Jump is a fine art photographer living in the Chicago, Illinois. Her black and white images explore ideas of home, belonging, memory, and absence, and have been exhibited throughout the United States. She graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design (BFA PH’14), and received the Harry Koorejian Memorial Scholarship and the Haining Family Scholarship. Her photographs are a part of the RISD Museum Special Collections, where she was also a visiting artist in conjunction with the exhibition, America in View: Landscape Photography 1865 to Now. Rachel is represented by Alibi Fine Art in Chicago, Illinois, which held her first major solo exhibition in November 2015. Her work has also been featured in various publications, including LENSCRATCH, The Ones We Love, Whattaroll, LDOC, RISD XYZ, and Light Leaked. She has taught at the Nantucket Island School of Design and the Arts and Maine Media Workshops + College. Rachel is currently working as a Tourism Marketing Assistant at the Art Institute of Chicago, and an editor for Aint-Bad Magazine. www.racheljump.net

Jennifer B. Larson is a musician, writer, visual artist, and sound engineer who teaches special education in Chicago Public Schools. She holds a BA in creative writing from Loyola University. She also runs a webzine called Disappearing Media where you can find copies of her chapbook Rituals, as well as work from many other talented artists. www.disappearingmedia.com

LDOC is a free photography and creative writing publication featuring a new local artist and writer each month, creating an installment-based experience for the Chicago commuter. Find LDOC in red newspaper boxes at the following Red Line stops: Howard St., Belmont, Sox-35th, and 69th. LDOC is also distributed by volunteers at the downtown Red Line Lake stops every first and third Monday evening of the month.