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2000 Deciduous Trees: Memories of a Zine

cover for 2000 deciduous trees

2000 Deciduous Trees

2000 Deciduous Trees: Memories of a Zine by Nath Jones

Available on Smashwords

2000 Deciduous Trees is an exploration of individual experience selected from Nath Jones’s ‘90s zine, The Skirt. The writing resists losing its balance during a time when gas was cheap and no one drove slowly on the cusp of a new millennium. The voice yearns for change. But nothing can be done in a twenty-something world where one-night stands get forgotten with execution-style murders.

About the On Impulse eBook Series:

We each have an impulse to share our experience. These four collections of short works explore storytelling from catharsis to craft. Over the course of this series Nath Jones’s writing style develops from the raw, associative, tyrannic rambles of cathartic non-fiction, flash fiction, and rant in The War is Language and our digital domains, to the delightful rough-hewn vignettes of 2000 Deciduous Trees, into the compact characterizations of the fictionalized tellings in Love & Darts, and finally toward How to Cherish the Grief-Stricken’s fully-crafted short stories that use literary devices and narrative elements to reveal a world well-rendered.

Well, I never read this guy’s ‘zine, which who says ‘zine any more? Are we gonna go out and get a slice of ‘za too? At any rate, I didn’t realize until I started reading that this is basically a collection of poems. So, if you like poems like this following one, maybe this ebook  is for you.


People may be barnacle fools and
cut your feet with their parasite
quick kind of (open close open)
habit world, eating their surroundings.
Snatching up the world’s
fastest times and making
your irregular life so hard.

But you have moved on again, haven’t
you? On to the next little room.

I can’t imagine in there with you
learning me. I can only see the
afterward. Broken open and dry.
But I’ll bet it’s all fleshy pink
joy, inside. Filling up new
between the getting-harder walls.

Boys and girls have nothing
thoughts between them all the
time. You know. Just like us.
And there is slippery understanding
there, in the Between, and the Around, and the
Just-where-you-can’t-quite-reach place.
And then I begin to know a you having
nothing to do with me. A you so
resolute and confined.



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