A Slow Decline

By Brian Ji

Farmers wake, farm their fields. 
Their wives tend hearth and home, 
chickens, pull milk from cows, slop
the pigs. Fishermen struggle
against fleets of slowly departing 
commercial ships, haul in smaller 
catches of ever-smaller fish. But 
entangled seals barbed in wire 
loosely fit, don’t care, burgeon 
swollen into a razor sharp ring cuts 
through flippers, neck, and tail,
chokes, slowly amputates does an 
ostentatious necklace
flashy, glinting beneath a grayish 
overly hot and hazing sun,
an aftermath of plastic, fish 
hooks, fossil fuel blackened air, 
and tons and tons of rank and raw 
sewage.
Tripping the Sky Fantastic

Clouds soar,
don’t drift away.
Outstretched
like swans,
they hide behind
colors assumed
by sky.
Flying formationed
horizon bound,
clouds dissipate,
morph into fish
yearning to be,
to become,
to forever dwell
within the cloudy
confines of a print
cut from wood.
Plasticity

A bowl full of 
realistic, at a glimpse,
shiny plastic fruit,
sits enticing on tables, 
countertops, lies 
almost crouched on 
haunches in wait for
blurry
uninitiated eyes
opaqued by 
hunger to wander 
by.
Tempting like apples, 
flytraps, and sirens, 
the pieces sit
alluring, almost 
smiling, impatiently 
waiting for a dupe, a 
sucker.
Existential Wishing

Oh, to dilly dally, to loiter 
daily by the Dali: 
Salvador or Lama, (even 
Hello!) would be a life of 
time
unwasted, well-spent,
but bettered by consumption
 of a foaming mug of Ein, 
observing a circling, soaring, 
royal Hawk. And to read a 
second time, of a falcon, to 
embrace that thing with 
feathers. And to cap it all with 
a Bacchanal lying enmeshed 
beside you quantumly
entangled in perpetuity.
Rubber Bits

I’m painted, made up, 
simultaneously lightly 
sketched and stretched 
thin. Afraid of smudging,
of being mered like bits 
of rubber, brushed off 
paper onto the floor. 
And barely bouncing 
upon landing to sit
unnoticed, I’m relieved to no longer 
be
employed or illused.

Brian Ji is a seventeen-year-old writer and visual artist currently attending Seoul International School in Korea. He finds meaning and delight in creative expression, channeling his energy into both literature and visual storytelling. His artwork investigates themes of urban compression, spatial memory, and the quiet poetics of daily life. His work has been featured in The Collidescope, The Expressionist, The Amazine, Alcott Magazine, Altered Reality Magazine, SCOPE Magazine, Lullwater Magazine, and VOICES Journal. Brian is an alum of the Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop.