“he became a living legend” by Julia in her office

Tuesday December 3, 2019
2:08pm
5 minutes
from Elvis Presley’s gravestone

He gave a call to his grandmother every Friday at 3
She liked to sit and knit a scarf or a blanket as he he’d speak
The wind was sometimes louder than the other days he’d ring
but she would stay on the line not to miss a thing
He’d tell her about his week at school and how he won the game
He’d ask her what news she learned even though it was always the same
He’d tell her she was his favourite and no one could come close
She’d smile and wipe a drop from her eye and say she loved him most

One day the phone rang and rang without her familiar greeting
she did not answer when he dialled and left him afraid of feeling
What would he do without this woman who had held his tears
Now that she was resting peacefully no longer here
He left a one final voicemail to tell her of his day
and knew that he could tell her that he loved her one last way

“Night Sight” by Julia in her office

Friday November 29, 2019
11:37am
5 minutes
from store.google.com

Night sight brings me good lights and everything in between
where the sheets give off steam and the silent sky screams

Night sight holds my throat with grace and opens up the window
to the voice that’s bouncing around

I’ve been waiting for something as good and calm
the days go by like rocket ships and everything blares on

The morning is a humming bird and quickly does she pass
so afternoons can move and groove and then they’re gone at last

But evening breathes a sigh of sweet and stillness echoes underneath
a nectar worth preserving and oh it fills the cup
a weight in every drop

Night sight closes my eyes tight and folds my gaze inside
and the hope can reside safely

Night sight wishes with her hands light giving off the insight
that can’t be seen in the day

“My mother is a wood thrush” by Sasha on the walk to choir

Thursday, April 19, 2018
6:42pm
5 minutes
A List Of My Utopias
Debbie Urbanski

Sung in an almost-whisper while walking East

My mama is a wood thrush
spotted belly soft and warm
My mama sings like morning
brown eyes welling
true to form

ey-oh-lay
ey-oh-lay
ey-oh-lay

My mama builds a strong nest
knows what’s sturdy
knows what’s plush
My mama she’s a wild one
My mama is a wood thrush

ey-oh-lay
ey-oh-lay
ey-oh-lay

“a certain brand of peanut butter” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday June 27, 2017
11:41pm
5 minutes
The Power Of Habit
Charles Duhigg


What do we have
we have a jar of peanut butter
we have Nescafe
we have all the will to
change this place for
the better
Oh the better
Oh the better
What do we have
we have tear-away track pants
we have water from the tap
we have the grief of forty two
years between us
What do we have
Oh the better
Oh the better
we have the better of this
the best of eachother

“Can’t wait to share” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday January 8, 2016
6:42pm
5 minutes
From a card

If I bought you a chicken
you’d have fresh eggs for life
If I gave you a machete
you’d never need a knife
If I made you a tea
you’d soothe your sore throat
If I knit you a sweater
you wouldn’t need a coat
If I fried you an egg
you’d have a full belly
If I put on the peanut butter
you’d spread out the jelly
If I gave you my heart
you’d never want for a thing
If I gave you a ukulele
you’d just have to sing
If I found us a mutt
you’d name it Earl or Gus
And we’d walk everywhere
and never have to ride the bus

“White-sand beaches” By Julia at her dining table


Monday March 7, 2016
10:41pm
5 minutes
from an online ad

If you’re asking then I’m going, going with you, going wherever you go.
I don’t have any bags packed yet but I don’t mind getting whatever I need as we bleed.
Can I borrow your toothbrush? If you’re asking, can I share your knapsack?
I could sing you one of your favourites. You can pick the one. I know you like some feeling kinds, some country, some bluegrass, some sweet sweet soul.
I don’t care if you’re a white-sand beaches kind of thing, a hot air balloon, an air dive off of a mountain kind of heart. I am an open mess of so much yes and so little reservation.
I can curl up small on your back, or lead you hand in hand to a secret place where the pure strength river will never run dry.

“This is fantastic!” by Sasha in her bed


Saturday September 19, 2015
11:21pm
5 minutes
http://www.food.com

A sad, small song, sung to the tune of your sadness
I’m as tired as a possum in a puddle.
I’m as lonely as a clam without a pearl.
I’m as broken as a china doll fallen off the top shelf.
I’m lowwwwwwww.

I’m as grumpy as a cat without a sun patch.
I’m as down as the sun after dusk.
I’m as shaky as the leaves after a storm.
I’m lowwwwwww, baby, I’m lowwwwwww.

I’m as minced as a meat pie.
I’m as scraggly as a stray.
I’m as empty as a barrel in a drought.
I’m lowwwwww! Oh baby! I’m lowwwwww.

“submitting this entry” by Sasha in the bath


Wednesday, July 22, 2015
11:24pm
5 minutes
From the Standardized Patient website

it takes time
oh it takes time
to decide
to come back
to look up up up
it takes time
oh it takes time
to unlearn the taste
to shake it loose
to smile at cracks
and
it takes time
oh it takes time
to learn something new
to learn something blue
to let the dust settle
oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
it takes time
oh it takes time
to see all the colours there
all the blues there
all the truth there
all the brightness
it takes time
oh it takes time
to find the clearest water
to chase away the monsters
to listen to the wind
oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
it takes time

“Attackers might be trying to steal” by Julia on her patio


Thursday, July 2, 2015
4:40 pm
5 minutes
from a notice from Google

They rock you from outside your cage
They spit
They leer
They laugh
They drink your blood in a furious rage
They hit
They jeer
They scoff

Run run run
Run run run
Run run run

Run

They steal your words from right off the page
They stab
They fight
They will
They tear your flesh on a live stage
They break
They take
They kill

Run run run
Run run run
Run run run

Run

“Last night I was like fuck it” by Sasha at Arbutus Coffee


Friday, June 5, 2015 at Arbutus Coffee
2:52pm
5 minutes
from a text

Vera walks by the ocean everyday, and she has since she was fifteen, since she moved to Vancouver from Windsor with her stepmother. Her father had gone to Hong Kong for a two year placement at a Chemical Engineering firm and both she and her stepmother had sworn they wouldn’t leave Canada. “Well at least go someplace fun,” he’d said, probably stroking his beard, probably narrowing his eyes the way he did when he was deep in thought. “Vancouver!” Her stepmother had said, with her Polish accent. “Okay,” Vera had shrugged and gone to her room and listened to Joan Baez. She has walked by the ocean everyday since she got here, different shores, but the same changing ocean. Today she sees an Orca. She blinks several times, as she does when she doesn’t trust her eyes, maybe she hasn’t drunk enough water, maybe an orange and a piece of toast wasn’t a big enough breakfast. Nope. It’s definitely a whale. She watches and listens, he’s singing! He’s singing just for her.