#1
2017
Contributors Casey O’Brien
is a writer working on it, trying not to give up on it, trying not to overly think on it.
Alison Berry
Maker and Painter.
Dan Boville
Multimedia artist, Travel thirster, Jeopardy! enthusiast.
Forward: 3+ began as a series of prompts intended to combat the blank page. With a little bit of direction and the motivation that comes with collaboration, these phrases helped us create in times when inspiration fell short. Perhaps more interesting than the pieces themselves are the similarities and differences between the work. Our brains are made up of the same mush, we simply use it differently. 3+ is a way of highlighting personal expression, together. While the artistic process is complex, 3+ is where art is both an individual and a team sport. We hope you enjoy the entries in our first 3+ publication. We’d like to expand contribution; stay tuned for a call for submissions. Entries, prompts, and inquiries can be sent to 3pluszine@gmail.com - thank you! -Casey, Ali, and Dan
To Dream of Ice
What My Hands Don’t Know
Through the windows of someone’s brother’s room, I studied what other teenagers did, clumsily, frantically, to one another’s bodies. I watched in awe, little fires starting in my gut and neighboring organs. Behind my own locked door that night, I trained my tongue on the creases of my right hand. The mouth that would replace my salty practicing hovered holographically above me, waiting in some futureplace like a powerful god I feared to disappoint. In the bathroom of a bar, I unzip a man’s jeans with what’s left of my animal instinct after using most of it to stalk and devour three martinis’ six olives. What my hands don’t know of this man, they learn quickly and confidently. They do what they have the muscle memory to do, what lessons on cucumbers and bananas taught them to do. This is one way to measure personal growth.
Gathering the Storm
gulf waters gathering the storm Named After Someone ’s Kid I swim out on a bet that I can teach those swirling salts 1. How to Remain Small and Far-Off 2. How to Settle Down and Subside I taught myself dissipation close to twenty years ago
The Spores Took It
Grandmother’s things in the basement the spores took it, all that held her smell, sentiment, dust collection Grandmother’s left nothing but shapes wet cardboard slumping around ceramic things that didn’t keep her alive or kill her, directly and I miss her a little less than I thought I would
Splitting Up Ghosts
they’ve gotta push past you to get inside of me, so I pinch their earlobes, so I kiss their eyelids shut, so I trade them mouth stuff for hand stuff, considering it’s not fair that i’m half of half of half of something comprised of another few half-things, considering you’re still keeping the gate and keeping out of touch as a kindness, admitting it’s harder than you’d thought - splitting up ghosts - your spirit catches on me quietly, burdocks hooked in my hair flat on my bare back, covered in sweet boy sweat, considering time before time the big bang, after all of my little fucks, runs natural on my mind, parallel to thoughts of the soft, soft skin on your inner thighs, my bygone happy place
Tired of This War
I woke up a woman, again a fierce worm- and rabbit-holer there are so many types of orange to choose from at the grocery store they roll out of their crates like mindless insects summoned home they follow me to a checkout line filled with people who aren’t afraid of fruit I fell asleep a girl, accordingly tired of this war I don’t understand