“God may have written” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

10:33pm

5 minutes

From a quote by Nancy Cartwright

Aubrey tells me that she wishes she could sing without trying. Without crying. Without opening her mouth. She asks me to ask God what can be done about that. She asks me because I’m taller than her and therefore closer to God. She’s not wrong…

When I ask her why she wants this she doesn’t answer with words but with a look of disapproval. As if I didn’t already know. As if it needs to be spelled out.

Aubrey tells me it’s important that singing be true. She says she’s heard enough people trying and she doesn’t want to be the kind who has to push put feelings; one who tries to get it right.

Would you be okay with being wrong? I ask her, a little afraid now that I’ve pushed her too far.

She smiles then and blows her bangs out of her oval face.

“God may have written” by Sasha at JJ Bean

Tuesday, March 13, 2018 at JJ Bean Olympic Village
5:48pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Nancy Cartwright

God may have told you not to cross the desert but you didn’t listen. You went, alone, litres of water on your back. You didn’t take a camel. You didn’t want the company, the sounds, the chewing, the shit. God may have told you to call your landlord but you didn’t listen. You left without notifying your bank, your lover, your brother. You brought enough sunscreen to last you three months. That’s the thing you googled. “How much sunscreen does a red-head need for three months in the desert?” Google knew the answer. You might miss Google. You brought a book that you knew you wouldn’t mind reading and re-reading because you’ve read and re-read it already several times.

“A woman came out of the farmhouse.” By Sasha on the 84

Monday, March 12, 2018
6:31pm
5 minutes
Exactly What To Say
Kim Church

A woman came out of the farmhouse
and at first I didn’t know who she was
at first I didn’t recognize those
lightning eyes and that sea foam hair

Then I realized it was you
and I fell to my knees
I muddied my knees
I shook my hands at the clouds
the whites of God’s eyes
I shook my hands and I cried out
your name

On that land where babies are born
and ancestors died on that land
there you were all wrinkles and time
and grief and amazement

It’s spring so that’s fitting
the garden overwhelming
the garden full of
crocuses and ranuculus
and anemone
and hellebore and rose