god martin,

i wish i had any idea where to go

i've been lost in this factory for weeks

at first i was happy

watching the mechanics of machines

listening to the release of steam

its long metallic echoes

in a place too soon forgotten

I compare it to the time you played spoons for me

that memory passed a few days

your fingers were so nimble

and how shocking your palm was never sore

but what am i to do now

the power's been turned off

the machines no longer turn

and the steam no longer sings

so martin,

here i am

sitting on cold cement in the dark

water is dripping from the pipe above me

it's pool etching closer

and i have no idea where to go

dear martin,

i wanted you to know, i dreamt of my home town burning. it's tallest buidling crumbled to ahses. and i woke up missing you.

j.

winterglove

winterglove from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

migrations

migrations from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

dear martin,

i love it when you wear

that hat i hate.

j.

dear martin

currently i'm working on a series of poems i'm calling "My Martin Poems." every poem features a fictional character named martin. he takes the role a fictional ex lover. he is a confidant. he is the person in our lives we can say anything to. the poems are simple in their creations. i've avoided verbose language, cryptic symbols, and generally all poetic devices i spent years in college learning. they are bare they are stark. and i love them for this reason. at this point i have...well...a lot of them. here below are a few of my favorites.

1

dear martin

you’ll be glad to know things are really looking up

I bought a snow shovel today

and some canned spray

to denounce rusting

I really hate fading beauty

you should see it now though

how the metal shines

I stood it up next to my mirror

handle on the floor

it’s nice to reflect myself

from a different perspective

the people I live with

(oh how I try no to mention them)

ask if I’m ever going to clear the driveway

martin, you understand how foolish that would be

my shovel is so new

and these roads stretch so far

2

it’s on the roof

I am certain of that

just climb, climb, climb

I know it burns dear martin

all those flights to the top

but you’ll find it

I promise

you still trust me, right?

I know it’s hard, the way I left

I’d be mad to

you were waiting so wonderfully

hands crossed in the shade of the oak

you couldn’t help but smile

I never told you I was there

I saw you

thank you for the flowers

I hope you did not throw them out

but you can still trust me

I only lied that once

so please, my love, my martin

it’s waiting on the roof

all you have to do

is take the pain

and climb

3

things are looking grim

I searched the wreckage

even wore rubbers and a head lamp

still I could find nothing

not a drop of blood

not a button from your blouse

absolute destruction

you’d figure the sea would qualm the fires

and cotton burns so quickly

as the tides rushed over

and the bow sunk deeper

everything was on that boat martin

memory alone can’t keep you alive

I guess it’s my fault

I’m the one who left

but still, I loved our walks

anyway, after diving the wreck

I didn’t have money to pay the guide

so I scrubbed tanks

it was a hot day

you always mocked my sweat

4

this time I am realizing

how far from home I am

I wanted to wake up

to the sound of frying eggs

it should be you cooking them

instead I wake up to nothing

even my heater is silent

it’s hardly a feat of technology

remember the way you hummed in your sleep

of course you don’t

but you remember I told you

martin, can you see yet

those crimes were never crimes

and a sad Tuesday is much better

than a lonely Wednesday

A few films

I've begun experimenting with my two preferred mediums of art. photography and writing. everyone's a writer, everyone's a photographer. this i know. so bare with me. maybe i've done something fresh, maybe i like to think this.

the first project is called "Outside Her Door." this project was originally inspired by a film maker named chris marker and his film "la Jetee." at the time i saw it, i was just beginning to learn about photos. i was working in a dark room, and generally understood very little about what entailed a good photo. i had no understanding of light, shadows, framing, etc...also, i had not idea how difficult it would be to print 60 photos...anyway, i never finished the project. fast forward a few years. i now own a dslr, and the project became feasible. with the help of my good friends ross, mary soo, and brian, we took a day and did the photo shoot for the script i had written. as with most of my writings, the focus is love and loneliness. i've become craftier with hiding the utter starkness of it's roots, and have learned to create some characters to express my own insecurities on the topics.

the second short film is in the same vein. it has no title. it's short. it's a short video i shot with my students as they made christmas cards in class. i thought the footage was kind of pretty. so, i wrote a poem complimenting it. this is a medium i want to explore more as well. video taping things, writing poems about said things.

anyway, watch them if you'd like.

j.

Outside Her Door from jake Hansen on Vimeo.

colors and from jake Hansen on Vimeo.

a poetic start

A poetic phase. It has begun. the world shifts and while i occupy the same space within it, my mind rotates back to where it enjoys settling the most. on a poetic phase. the world is more beautiful this way.

today my phrase is:

things are harder

now that you've gone

it only takes a few words for me to be moved. the emotion and story backed by the utter complexities of the simplicity of life are enough to bring me to my knees. maybe i want to cry here. maybe i want to sing. if there's a god, he exists in between the poetic phrases. these spaces, the silent spaces, are what we call love, faith, and trust. we wish we could find words to express the way we love the things we love. but we cannot. words cannot capture the spaces between the poetic phrases. so, we are left with the poetic phrases. the emotions the hang above our heads, the concoction of a deeper understanding.

the aim of this blog is not to update my daily life. not to focus on the cultural differences of america and korea. it's not outlandish, no, it's quite expected korea and all it's oddities will find it's way into this blog, but it will never be the focus point.

this blog is a way of sharing art. of sharing what matters most to me. entries are never guaranteed, but will come as often as they can. this, i do promise.