I'm working on Volume Two of my zine. This is such a great outlet for all of the writing and photography I do, among other things... In this next issue there will be lots of words (and still a lot of images). Also I put some Mail Art in this issue.
This is a poem written by a high school senior in Alton, IL, two weeks before he committed suicide:
He drew...the things inside that needed saying.
Beautiful pictures he kept under his pillow.
When he started school he brought them...
To have along like a friend.
It was funny about school, he sat at a square brown desk
Like all the other square brown desks..and his room
Wasa square brown room like all the other rooms, tight
And close and stiff.
He hated to hold the pencil and chalk, his arms stiff
His feet flat on the floor, stiff, the teacher watching
And watching. She told him to wear a tie like
All the other boys, he said he didn't like them.
She said it didn't matter what he liked. After that the class drew.
He drew all yellow. It was the way he felt about
Morning. The teacher came and smiled, “What's this?
Why don't you draw something like Ken's drawing?”
After that his mother bought him a tie, and he always
Drew airplanes and rocketships like everyone else.
He was square inside and brown and his hands were stiff.
The things inside that needed saying didn't need it
Anymore, they had stopped pushing...crushed, stiff
Like everything else.
(source: The Underground History of American Education by John Taylor Gotto, Oxford, New York p. xxvii)
It's almost done, I just need to go get some brightly colored paper for the cover and start hand-binding them. Let me know if you're interested. I accept comparable art or zine trades or else $5.