c o n v e r g e n c e:
an online journal of poetry & art


SPRING 2011 ISSUE


Photobooth at The Shady Lady by Myles Boisen

Photobooth at The Shady Lady by Myles Boisen



THE FINDING: NO. 4
by Lauren India Henley

No one is alone in Arcata,
everyone does everything with someone else.
If you are alone, you are on your way
to meet up with other people.
Only bicycles with two or more seats are sold here.
It’s not uncommon to see lovemaking
in line at the bank, at the Laundromats, on the bridge
over the freeway.
And so there are many mothers in this town and
almost everyone is pregnant. Children
are valued like mayors,
they run through clothing stores and markets
and they don't have to brush their hair, ever.
There are men in the forest.
One of them has a broken flute
or his hands are old,
but either way his music sounds like
glass birds flying into one another,
the confusion, the work the breath must do.
Here, dogs are made out of old furniture
and unwashed laundry,
they pose as chairs, as tables and loveseats—
people only like the dogs
when they are something useful.

Everything you've heard about this town is true.
But still I want to know,
what have you heard?



RESEARCH ON EARLY PARENTAL LOSS
by Kelly Nelson

Expert #1:
You will avoid

involvements.
You will be less
happy than others

but not know it.

You will have an unconscious fear
of positive moods. You will secretly sabotage
yourself. And your defense mechanism—
you'll wash and wax it, change its oil,
fill its tires, install a stereo and four subwoofers.

Expert #2:
Dry mouth or wet mouth
but never just right
mouth, your glands and secretions
forever changed.

Expert #3:
Be a girl.
Be a girl who loses her father.
Be a girl who loses her father, ignores the sure fear of intimacy and marries. Be that girl, add wine, and you’ll be primed to shred his throat.

Expert #4:
That intact home you didn't grow up in?
Oh, that'll dog you forever.
Have this stress, have that stress,
and you'll be much sicker than folks whose homes
didn’t shatter.

                                 #

           I lost my dad. I was thirteen.
           My mom lost her dad. She was thirteen.
           Her mother lost her mother when she was three,
           then lost her dad at thirteen.

Flash us a card that says loving—our muscles tense.
Flash a card marked excited—we’ll frown.












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