NO CHAIN 4: Tether
NO CHAIN
volume 4
Tether
EDITOR’S LETTER
n the penultimate days of the world we know, when malls and steak houses became unsafe, when bars closed and schools closed, and we felt the lotus of human earth closing, we still found ways to gather.
Along the ridge of my mountain neighborhood, everyone rallied at dinnertime to see and take pictures of the sky. It didn’t matter if the sunset was spectacular. There was always a deepening blue with a chance of magenta. And if anything, this was a way to watch the day pass, to know for sure that it was going somewhere.
Meaningless or not, if I caught a glimpse of heaven, I think I’d take my camera out.
All that can be deleted craves a gesture toward memory.
ॐ
xAB
Branches of a Fig Tree
Abby Berman
We are confronted constantly by the
limitations of life
How sad to have only one choice;
one path.
How frustrating to see the possibilities
of other roads,
of unblossomed love,
of unclimbed mountains,
of untouched desserts,
places I’ll never go
things I’ll never see,
memories I’ll never have,
people I’ll never know,
the lives in my mind that I’ve never lived.
And yet, when put in perspective,
understanding the significance of
my choice—
this is the only life I would choose.
Unpacking the boxes in my mind,
sifting through it all, I still see you.
And the frustration goes away.
The Hanged Man
I am hanging from a hill
like a balsa wood moon
on an earring hook
sometimes I have to
suspend disbelief
and dip weary fingers
into wet sky
between the land
and my mind, there are tendrils
that tether and feed me
it is time to uncoil a few strands
near my temple, to weigh my hair
with water and soften
to gravity
who I am in a pool,
in a summer,
seems less immediate
than all kinds of birds that
I don’t know the names of
xAB
Summer Notebook
brake light bleeding out into gloom
snuck up on me
it’s a morning like crepe paper
on the canvas of summer
I wrinkle the skin for a moment
then evaporate
into its unforgiving
brightness
I like poetry because it’s true—
the me writing now will disappear
and talk to tomorrow’s me
like a stomach ache, the pain will change
and the monkey flower will spring up from the hills
then disappear into the summer dust
I think we only have once chance to remember this
instead of words, I’d like to send you a notebook slice
with a hole cut out of its center like a dark moon
but I’d never send empty moons your way, even by mail
though you seem so good at being thrown a loop,
your slanted hand leans toward intimacy
and snaps to grid 238,900 miles away
Swallow me, world. There is something ancient about us both. Even my attitude. Even this dark theatre where we sit helplessly and watch shadow game run in the Lascaux caves. There have been many times where I recognized you in the strokes of a day and spit you out like sour fruit. Now, all I can hear is our heartbeats and the white space of ghost herds stamping out any catch I thought was mine and mine alone.
xAB
NO CHAIN
a zine
volume 4
Tether
ft. Abby Berman
ed. Annabelle Bonebrake
Summer 2022
📬
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