Friday June 23, 2017
10:34pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail
S gives me the idea
to interview my dad.
She’s interviewing hers.
She says she’s learning a lot.
I have always dreamt
of sitting down with
my father and talking with
him about the good stuff.
Like the time he crashed
the car, or the time he fell
in love with someone
who didn’t want him back
or the time he had his limp alcohol poisoned body
dragged home by his
parents who had to fetch
him from the underage
party at Lindsay’s house.
I want to know that he sees
himself in my mistakes and
that I’m not the only one.
That maybe I got some
extraordinary traits from
him beside my wild
curls and my penchant
for chili peppers.
I’d like to ask him if he’s ever regretted his anger
or if he’s ever had to
break up with an old
friend too.
You know
the good stuff.
“kindergarten registration” by Sasha at a coffee shop on Dunbar
Thursday June 22, 2017
4:38pm
5 minutes
From a sign
This woman on the bus rides in a motorized wheelchair. She’s beautiful. She looks like Nicole Kidman and Helena Bonham Carter had a lovechild and gave her even better hair and eyes. She has a little dog on her lap. Cute, shaved down so it looks like it has a lion’s mane. We all watch – rapt – as she wheels into her spot (people cleared the way). As the bus starts to drive onwards, she takes a ziplock bag of something indistinguishable out of a bag in the basket that’s on the front of her wheelchair. She eats it, or, rather, she chews it and spits it out into her hand and tries to feed it to her dog. He doesn’t want it.
“I was speaking body-to-body.” By Sasha at her desk
Wednesday June 21, 2017
11:18pm
5 minutes
From an interview with Lidia Yuknavitch on http://www.bloom-site.com
We don’t have much to say to each other
with these things
with these words
with syll-
ables
broken and frayed
and drunk on vowels
We speak body-to-body
sweaty sheets wound round
thighs and arms and
you touch me with the
conviction I’ve always
wanted to be wanted
in this articulation
When we walk down the
street you are distant
one hand on the handlebars
of your bicycle
I’m not used to this
arrangement of hard
K’s and V’s and
you disorient me
with your vague
interpretations of
song lyrics of the
band I wish I knew
I am gutted when
you stop calling
because I’ve only known
this body-to-body to mean
something
something languid
something truthful
something gracious
It’s two years before I
know the true taste of sweetness
of gentle whispered w’s and a’s
“kindergarten registration” by Julia on the 99
Thursday June 22, 2017
1:04pm
5 minutes
from a sign
back to school
time to learn some things
how to deal with disappointment
how to deal with spending all the money on all the things that end up being disappointing
how to deal
how to be okay with the bruises that come from chasing perfection
how to be okay with taking ownership for all the mistakes
how to smile at the next person so
one bad day doesn’t bleed into another
how to fight the urge to cry on a bus so no one sees
how to cry on a bus so no one sees
how to cry only enough for release and not for pouchy eye bags
back to school
time to learn some things
“I was speaking body-to-body.” by Julia on her bed
Wednesday June 21, 2017
10:52pm
5 minutes
from an interview with Lidia Yuknavitch on http://www.bloom-site.com
Horay, you fixed the bed. Now our bones don’t crumple in at the meeting place. I never knew how much knee crawling I do until receieving the cease and desist.
It is bad for some reasons, but you don’t want to hear that because it would get in the way of you patting yourself on the back.
You don’t want to hear them but I am not built like a slow cooker. I make popcorn with my feelings. I burst through every single lid in this apartment.
I don’t like sleeping in and now I am more comfortable because my spine is no longer screaming at me. I am speaking body to body now. If you don’t want to hear how my silence stings, you better set your chest to ‘Listen.’
“receiving invitation” by Julia in her bed
Tuesday June 20, 2017
11:18pm
5 minutes
from an email
I’ve been bleeding for days and nobody knows why.
Nobody knows why because nobody knows and I suppose it’s up to me.
I make the calls and the appointments, I pay the bills or I don’t.
This growing thing, this fleshy bump is getting me down.
Isn’t that ironic-If to you growing means up. It is ironic that to me growing means up.
My impulsive decisions are growing too. In.
When Sarah pierced my ears on the back of a potato I didn’t think they’d ever be anything but proof of my young nights.
There was blood then too, on the carpet.
“receiving invitation” by Sasha on her couch
Tuesday June 20, 2017
11:19pm
5 minutes
From an email
Mr. Bolton sang at the open mic with his two sons. My sister and I did, too, and we were better, at least that’s what people said. He taught Physics. I wasn’t any good at physics. My sister was, so sometimes I copied her work from six years prior. He hadn’t changed his lesson plans. I still feel guilty about that sometimes and then I remember how hard I worked on the things I actually cared about it and I let it go. The open mic’s happened a few times a year, and my sister and I would practise for the weeks leading up, choosing songs, sorting harmonies, layering instruments.
