CUT THE DECK

4 - Monologue - Mimi Geller - Prose

5 - Carly - Kat St. Martin-Norburg - Photo

6 - My Blue Period - Isobel Alm - Colored Ink

6 - Desert Dream - Emily Schlinger - Ink and Watercolor

7 - A Spirit in the Attic - Sabrina Rucker - Prose

8 - Iceland - Will Swanson - Photo

9 - Project Fortinbras - Noa Carlson - Poem

13 - Slab Sulpture - Ruby Hoeschen - Clay

14 - Vase - Annabelle Bond - Clay

16 - Stripes - Belle Smith - Ink and Watercolor

18 - Coy Dish - Jack Guinan - Clay

18 - Climate Change - Jak Kinsella - Speech

22 - No Forgetting - Krista Schlinger - Ink

24 - Ducks and Ducks - Riley Tietel - Jar

24 - Nature - Brennan Keogh - Poem

26 - The Griver’s Thoughts - Paige Indritz - Poem

27 - Night Sun - Kieran Singh - Photo

28 - Iceland - Sharee Roman - Photo

29 - excerpt from Here Living Presently, Presently Living Here

- Mimi Geller - Poetry Collection

30 - bw - Maddie Breton - Photo

31 - Locked - Sabrina Rucker - Video

By Mimi Geller Monologue

Justyesterday I walked by that park. You know the one. With woodchips bristling through its foliage, the reassuring hum of the traffic nearby. The baseball leagues practicing behind the swings. Yes. The swings. That one swing. The one at the end. Underneath the tree. You pumped your legs and outstretched your limbs to touch that one protruding leaf. Those helicopter leaves that would soon fall tumultuously, punctuating the brisk autumn air. I saw you there. You smiled at me. I smiled back.

Your radiance flashing, but your legs couldn’t keep up. The wind whistled through the air’s thickness. It didn’t matter to you. Your velocity accelerated, your hair reflected the shadows of the sun peering through that tree. The shadows of that tree steer my heart clear. And you. You kept going, moving, disrupting the ever present tranquility that traps you. That trapped us. So you could kick that leaf. The one at the top of that tree. In that moment, the nature vibrated through us. It was almost systematic. Sometimes at night I can hear that buzzing when I try to sleep. Why does it have to be like this?

Change.

A seat I sat on. The swing I sat on, near my house. Near my home. A chance unmistakable. You were always there with me, propelling yourself forward, blazing brilliance. I often avoid that park. I am too afraid. Afraid of the voices, afraid of finding you. And your legs, the ones that endlessly sought to hit the peak of the arc. But don’t forget when the chain broke. After you felt that leaf on your toes, your excitement bursted, but never failed. The wood chips washed through your sun kissed haired. Tears streaked through your young skin, only touched by life’s coincidental accidents, never by choice. I have never seen someone perpetuate emotion so quickly. So effortlessly. Because all you ever did was smile towards me. And now, I struggle so deeply to understand how someone can pour themselves, so fearlessly, so selflessly into something as innocent as reaching for a leaf. Thrusting yourself with rhythmic measures.

I went back to that park the other day searching for you. I meandered around that baseball field, near the slides, the see saw, until I made it to the swings. To that swing. You know the one. The one at the end. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other. And I saw you that day. Hair drowning in the air. Peering up at that leaf. The one that protrudes.

I smiled at you. You set me free.

My Blue Period

Desert Dream