ISSUE 02NOVEMBER & DECEMBER, 2015HANGTIM

And So It Begins...

Featured ArtistsMartin Yarbrough Tuesday SellersShannon Palsma Sal DiBonoStephanie Saintilien

CONTRIBUTORSEbony Anderson Brown North HuNan SukaramMartin YarbroughZakiya Owens

CONTENTShannon Palsma 1Martin Yarbrough 2, 11 - 12 Stephanie Saintilien 3 - 8 Sai Dibono 9 - 10Tuesday Sellers 13 - 14

,

First there was Coffee.By Shannon Palsma

Start-up slow and easy.Gentle kisses withjust a little bit of tongue,pressing tighter togetheras hands glide across waists.

Have you guessed my measurements yet?Fingertips play with the brimsof my jeans,your jeans.Rip them off in a flash,

I’ll buy you new buttons later,and dive in.Don’t be afraid to dig deepuntil we’re screaming lionsdevouring zebras.

You like the way I taste?Bite down harderso blood drips from your teethand stains my skinas you make the atheist in me see Godin one moment of undiluted ecstasywhile gasping for air outside the steamuntil the dam breaks,the tide rushes in,and we let the waves settle for a second

until we go out for “coffee” again.

1

,

2

3

Artist: Stephanie Saintilien

4

,

5

,

6

7

“It Won’t Come Off !” 

By. Stephanie Saintilien

Thick as the murk of a swampMaking difficult life’s trompSuffocating, drowning by darkness’ cranePanting. Clawing, failing to reach surface fuels the bane Every stroke is filled with useless hopeThe “solution” of a simple cleaning agent won’t do. The next result is to cope?The probability weighs of rising (another day) to my freedomor to this sustained contamination A Creator wouldn’t permit such trialsWhere the release of this debilitating suffering is deniedThe search for solace has become redundant, childishTaxed by the draining side effects of this virus Thick as the country nightResidue from its oily slick is found on every part,clogging pores, organs, arterieslonging for a remedy to ease Without parole, muscles act as abducteesMy entire being is tarred with this disease With every failed hope filled stroke

A pure breath is still awaited for

Photo by Duneska Suannette from “It Won’t Come Off” series

8

The subways of New York City are one hell of a place, I could tell you that much. There is never a dull moment on New York public transportation. Especially on this one September afternoon; I was heading home from college, I go to City College up in Harlem by the way, and I was taking the 1 train and waiting on the train platforms that day felt like standing in a damn oven. The train finally comes after lord knows how long that I’ve been sitting, marinating like a pot roast with sweat running down my face because my stupid ass wore a flannel to school. The train doors open and a cool breeze from the train’s air conditioner felt like the sweet embrace of a lover’s bosom. I never felt happier to see that hunk of metallic

crap in my life. I get in and the story gets even more glorious, there were seats! I sat at the end seat near the door at the end of the car. I lay my brown leather bag on my lap and take out my book of Sophocles’ plays and opened to Antigone and was reading merrily. This seems too good to be true. Too bad when you’re me things go south pretty quickly. Since when does something not go wrong? So there I am and I look up to see this older man staring at me. He looks dead into my soul and then smiles. He then continues to stare under my seat and back at me. We must have made eye contact about three or four times at this point before this man opens his mouth. “Do you speak English?” Who the fuck does

City Subway StoryBy Sal DiBono

9

this guy think I am? But then again I am Puerto Rican. I must have looked extra spic that day. I responded, “Yes I do. Why?” “Don’t be alarmed, but I thought it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t tell you.” He hesitates and looks under my seat. Tell me what man! Spit it out! “There’s a huge rat under your seat.” Don’t panic? Don’t fucking

panic? This is what this man says to me and then tells me there’s a sewer rat under my seat. At first I thought nothing of it. Out of stupidity and curiosity I look under my seat and this black mass of a rodent was there facing a wall and cowering in fear. This rat was the king of all rats. His tail was as thick as an electrical chord and

he must have been the size of a adolescent cat. Without hesitation, I got up, thanked the man and jumped in the closest seat away from the creature. When things were going right, the universe throws a rat under my seat.

I get over the vermin inquisition and continue reading my book because I had a paper due the next day on the play so I had to read as much as possible. As people got on, the same man warns the unknowing souls of the rodent passenger under the seat. Everyone on the train starts to joke about this passenger. Then this guy gets on the train. He’s skinny, tall and is wearing clothing stained with paint and smells of chlorine. The man warns him of the rat and this man looks directly into the soul of this rat and then says, “Hey little dude. I’m gonna sit right here and there’s not a thing you can do about it.” Okay, we got a loony on the train. He keeps

bending over yelling at the rat. The people on the train become more uncomfortable. If that rat attacks, I am fleeing the country. Then this woman gets on, they warn her of the rat, and she shrugs it off and sits there anyway, she didn’t give a single rat’s ass about this rat. Then this fool that smells like chlorine keeps egging the rat on. The woman curls herself in a ball preying to someone or something that this rodent doesn’t come out. She gives a rat’s ass now. The next stop is here and the Good Sa-maritan gets off. One of the random passengers ten says, “Hey who’s going to warn people of the rat now?” he shrugs and nods at me and gets

off. I have been passed this torch by this man’s nod. Then I noticed that I missed my stop by ten stops. I get off at 14th street and fail my duties as the warden of the train car. Then the whole ride home after that I couldn’t stop thinking about three things: What happened to the rat after I left? Who was this guy that he made it his business to be a decent human being? Why the hell did I let my-self get caught up with a rat on a subway car? It’s New York!

10

11

12

Behind the

ScarBy Tuesday Sellers

13

The bar is almost empty now. Just me and some kid eyeing me from one of the tables. I down another glass, not acknowledging him. Still he stares. I turn. “ You got a question, boy?” I ask gruffly. The kid blinks twice and shakes his head hesitantly, not taking his eyes off the side of my face. I snort. “Course you do. You wanna know how I got this here scar,” I vaguely gesture to the right of my profile. It’s quite an impressive scar, jagged and red, marring my face from my eyebrow to my jawline. The kid widens his eyes and nods slowly. I snort again and turn all the way towards him. “Was on a ship,” I begin. “Huge ship. Part of the crew. And let me tell ya, kid, this ship was damn impressive. Magnificent, they called it. Weren’t no cargo ship, neither. Nah, this was for passengers. Rich ones, or ones that were just mighty lucky. They got to sit in the lap o’ luxury for a month ‘n’ a half while we worked our fingers to the bone sailin’ the thing. Anyway, we were out on high seas when a storm hit. ‘It’ll be fine,’ they all said. ‘It’ll be fine.’ Long story short, it wasn’t. We wrecked. Most of us died. Somehow I survived. I was stranded out there in the ocean for weeks, clingin’ to a piece of ship for dear life, prayin’ for salvation Instead I got sharks.” The kid’s mouth drops open. “Is that how—?” “Nah. Turned out to be peaceful. Infernal creatures nudged me to shore somehow. Then they just swam off. Strangest thing. Anyhow, I wandered along the shore for a couple of hours before I was greeted by a few hostile natives. They tied me up and dragged me back to their village, where some fella’ with a headdress started shoutin’ at me, not makin’ a lick of sense. Couldn’t understand a word outta his mouth. Next thing I know, all the natives are pointing these spear-lookin’ weapons at me, seemin’ plenty angry.” The kid sputtered. “And that’s—“ “Then one of ‘em carefully cut my bindings and other helped me up and they all started talkin’

at once, course, I wouldn’ta understood ‘em anyhow. But they started handing me all these colorful fruits and leadin’ me to the edge of the village. Once we get to the edge , they wave, turn around ‘n’ leave. So I start walkin’ ‘n’ eatin’ the fruit, which had a taste I’m afraid I can’t describe. But I walk through this incredible jungle, colors you wouldn’t believe in these trees, and eventually I come across this cave. Now this cave had a real bad feel to it. Ominous, I guess you’d call it. “Now, you gotta understand, I had seen some things by this point. I reckoned I was braver than anything that lived in a cave. So I strolled right inside and called out, ‘Hello?’. Course, nothin’ answered, so I went a little further into the cave. Then it starts to turn pitch black and I can’t see a thing, so I start to back out, but not before I hear this scrapin’ along the cave wall and some sorta hissin’. When I get back into the daylight, I see I’m bein’ followed by this lizard-lookin’ monster, flickin’ his tongue at me. So I say, ‘Well, if yer lookin’ fer a fight, I reckon I’m ready.’ Then he ounces on me and we grapple for a hot minute before I have him pinned down.“This thing didn’t much appreciate losin’, ‘cause it reached up with one clawed, scaly hand and gave me this here scar.” I gesture. “Or maybe he just wanted a piece o’ my face to remember me by.”

The kid’s eyes are the size of saucers by this point.“Sir,” he begins timidly. “Is all that really true?”I take a long drink before answering.“Nah,” I say finally, setting down the glass. “Cut myself shaving.”

14