“Christian Science Reading Room” by Sasha in her bed


Wednesday August 23, 2017
11:46pm
5 minutes
From a storefront on West Broadway

Words are my best lover
knowing when to go slow and move slick
Whisper whisper the sweet fuck
I cradle my notebook like your elbow
the salty spot where your hip is
my lip is I snuggle my pen and
don’t sweat the stain

Words know me and grow me and stretch
the truth of the t-r-u-t-h
of the b-o-d-y
b can oh-nly contain oh oh oh

d is the darkness
is the depth
is the deep

why y y why
a crest
a crescendo
Words, my tonic, my prince, my
oh my

“Let’s do choices” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday July 25, 2017
11:01pm
5 minutes
The Home Depot ad

If I bought you a popsicle, I’d buy you a rocket. I’d hold it for you, so that as you ate it in the thick heat, none would drip onto your shirt. It’s white. That’s the real gift. I wouldn’t mind if my hands got sticky. I might not even wash them. I might save the stick until the night, when I’d spend a bit of time with them before crawling into bed. I’d have to wash my sheets, but it would be worth it.

“they did not” by Sasha on her porch


Sunday, August 28, 2016
10:12pm
5 minutes
From a piece of feedback

They did not tell us that we would fight like dogs
and fuck like them too especially when the heat broke
They did not tell us that there would be days when
everything would feel broken
They did not say,
“Kindness is the most important thing, followed
closely by respect, by humour, by knowing when to
let it go and when to raise the torch.”
They did not say that there would be times when
we would be strangers sleeping side by side.
They did not tell us that we would fall deeper
in love with each fight, each fuck, each break,
each repair, each song, each pizza, each jump
underwater.

“out in the burbs” by Sasha at Lit Espresso Bar


Saturday July 30, 2016 at Lit on Ronces
3:12pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Lit on Roncesvalles

James wants to move out to the burbs once he’s done his internship. He keeps talking about the “size of the lots”… “There’s nothing for us here, Carly,” he keeps saying and I don’t know what he means and I absolutely do not agree. There’s lots for us. Lots for all of us, not just me and him. I’m not getting cold feet or anything, but I don’t really feel excited when he talks like that – like he has a plan that I’m not privy to, like he thinks he’s the boss of our future. I actually asked him last night, “Do you want a pool, James?! Do you want a damn hot tub?” And he laughed because he thought that maybe I was joking or something.

“behind your kiss” by Sasha on the couch


Wednesday July 6, 2016
10:45pm
5 minutes
When I touch you; Peter Ilyanov
Diana Brebner


Me and you create a secret language of only vowels and speak it when we’re in public. Only we know what we’re saying. There’s power in that. It’s no surprise that I fall in love with you over “o” and “a”, the soft shape of pursed lips, a kiss somewhere behind there.

Some people make fun of us, we hear them cackling or whispering.

“Mangiamo Italiano!” by Sasha on a bench at UBC


Tuesday June 14, 2016
3:47pm
5 minutes
The front page of the Westender

His breath is sharp parmesan cheese, shaved with a pocket knife.
His back is the topography of vineyards, muscles of grapes and sweat of dew.
His words are wise cirrus clouds almost touching heaven.
When we walk together our strides fall into one stride, two strides, three strides, a harmony of flavour and footsteps.
When we swim, he’s stronger so he’s faster. I watch the ripple of the water where his arms break the surface, break the break, broken in more than two.
When we sleep, I fall asleep first and I feel his eyes, Jupiter on the pillow here, scavenging for secrets that haven’t been grated yet, waiting for the moment to eclipse.

“Inside our homes there is usually” by Julia on her couch


Sunday February 28, 2016
11:44pm
5 minutes
from a magazine cutout/em>

Inside our homes there is usually less noise, more quiet, less hate, more love.
Usually.
Tonight there is more crying, less calm, more shaming, less light.
We are both nothing and everything, trying to love each other’s nothing and everything.
You do a better job with it than I do. When I am absolutely nothing nothing, you are still everything everything.
I ask you why you are so nice to me.
You answer with a forehead kiss and a squeeze.
I tell you you haven’t left enough space for me here.
You answer with a squeeze and direct eye-contact.
You will not let me take any prisoners.
You are so happy to be brought on board when I remember that you deserve that.
We are each other’s everything. We are our own nothings.
I have to remember that part too.
If I’m painting broad strokes of the everyday, there is usually more laughter, less pain, more teamwork less fight.
It depends on many things.
The things that usually happen 100% inside of me.

“KEEP REFRIGERATED” by Julia on her bed


Saturday February 27, 2016
8:12pm
5 minutes
From the tetra pack of arugula

Darling waits for me outside the gym after I’m done my sweat with a big juicy bag of fresh spinach and a muffin devoid of anything delicious in it. Darling really knows me; knows I’m desperately trying to value myself and stop feeding my fears with unnecessary carbs or sugars.
I swat my hand at Darling as if it were no big deal at all that I had just cycled all of my aggression out for the 2nd time today. Darling smiles and offers me a perfect little towel with the tag snipped off. I know I’ll never have to go one single day without Darling picking me up after a sweat, or a shop, or a mental breakdown on the I-5. Today I want to cry but I don’t know if Darling has brought the necessary preparations for it…

“KEEP REFRIGERATED” by Sasha at her counter


Saturday February 27, 2016
10:56am
5 minutes
From the tetra pack of arugula

“You can keep your shrubs and your sourdough starter and your kombucha mother!” He says, throwing his cup at me. Luckily it’s tin and so it just sort of bounced on the floor a few times. I laughed. He didn’t.

I love Chris, but like, he isn’t the one. I always knew that. He was a good bang and had a great beard and he knew how to give amazing foot rubs and make great spaghetti sauce.

I don’t think I’ll get on Internet dating or anything. I’m going to get really into infusing… Vodka, vanilla… You name it, I’ll infuse it.

“How cool would this be?” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday February 26, 2016
10:56am
5 minutes
Overheard on Yew St.

How cool would it be if we knit identical toques and used the same wool and everything and how cool would it be if we never really took them off, only to shower and stuff?

We would absolutely have to go up to where the snow is to roll in it cuz what’s the point of toques if we aren’t in snow? The twinkle lights would be twinkling and we would bring a thermos of tea and a bar of dark chocolate and our heads would be warm and our fingers would be cold but we’d kiss under the stars and we’d feel more alive than ever.

“World’s Greatest Dad” by Julia on her couch


Tuesday February 16, 2016
11:05pm
5 minutes
from a picture of Joe’s t-shirt

I liked him because he thought my name was Vanessa.
I liked him because he’d make excuses to talk to me.
Because he’d serenade me in the funniest ways and always show up in my doorway without a reason.
Because his smile hasn’t changed one bit since he was little.
Because he knows how to communicate me to me.
Because he can educate without agendas or judgments.
I liked him because he was charming.
Because he was funny.
Because he was the best looking thing I’d ever seen.
I liked him because he wore truth-manifesting, subliminal foreshadowing on his funny old t-shirts.
I liked that his favorite shirt used to be the one that read “WORLD’S GREATEST DAD”.
I liked him because I believed he believed he would be.

“imagining our future.” By Sasha at the UBC Learning Exchange


Wednesday February 10, 2016
7:08pm
5 minutes
CBC.ca/books

I imagine our future as orchids
as shooting stars
as bits of sand when
under a microscope
the whole universe

I imagine our future
can’t help myself
I’m a dream junkie
arm bruised with pockmarks of
maybe and when

I imagine our future ceilings
catching wishes in open laughter mouths
I imagine our future claw foot tub
warm water swirling down the memory drain
I imagine our future babies
All cheeks and nerve

“But it’s long, you have to go way down” by Sasha on the top floor at Bowmore


Saturday, December 26, 2015
1:52am
5 minutes
overheard at YVR

I am not the martyr you’re looking for
m for the mother that shamed you into thinking you could never be enough
a for the assumption that all women have a daddy issue
r for the restful quiet after the storm has passed
t for the time you take to love me like a snail inching his way towards water
y for the years we’ve done this over and over always finding the patience a mirage in the desert stretch
r for the reason why we show up again and again even when we don’t want to the quiet voice that lives in the root of the heart knows

“picked and consumed” by Julia on her couch


Sunday November 29, 2015
9:31pm
5 minutes
From the Wikipedia article on jalapeños

I love you more than I ever have
I picked you from the crowded place in my brain that tells me not to make rash decisions
I chose you from the pile of mistakes I had been sweeping to one side
I love you more than I ever have
I didn’t think I could grow to love you more but I’ve surprised myself
The way you’ve surprised me
Reminding me that people can change and that mistakes can be forgiven
And sometimes forgotten
Thank you for forgetting
Thank you for reminding me daily that I’m your favourite flavour of perfect imperfection
Sometimes I pretend I can’t hear you when you talk on the phone to your parents
And you tell them how proud you are of me
But in the other room, I am teary-eyed and feeling so damn lucky
And when you come in I act like I don’t know how sweet you are
Maybe it’s a little game
Maybe it’s self-preservation and keeping my feelings clothed so they don’t feel embarrassed
I love you more than I ever have
I picked you from the wall of beautiful artwork that hangs in my imagination

“participate in all activities” by Sasha at Platform Seven Coffee


Wednesday November 25, 2015 at Platform Seven Coffee
3:10pm
5 minutes
from http://www.playwrights.ca

Lying on the hood of Jeff’s car, the metal is hot against Sara’s back. She’s wearing the sundress she borrowed from Mel, with the cut-out mid back and the tiny birds. It’s their Sunday ritual, one that Jeff proposed before Sara stopped smoking week and before they both read Joan Didion. A plane takes off and they both close their eyes. Jeff counts to seven out, shouting. When they open their eyes, the plane is right above them. Sara grabs Jeff’s hands and suddenly the fact that he hasn’t eaten her out in seven months and that there are three days worth of dishes in the sink when they get home and that her Mom found another lump in her breast… None of it matters.

“that time of innocence” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday November 24, 2015
11:02pm
5 minutes
from a poem by bell hooks

it was that time of gold
the innocence of maple butter
slathered on cheeks kissed by the wind
a typhoid of hormones
your fingertips a garter snake in
the zucchini flowers

it was that time of innocence
too much lavender incense from
the dollar store
chipped nail polish tea leaves
empty fortune cookies celebrated
leaving more room for our dreams

“Your vision, values and needs” by Julia on her couch


Sunday November 1, 2015
11:59pm
5 minutes
An ad for a Life Coach

The back of my computer is covered in chocolate icing because…well fuck, because, obviously. It’s been a hard month, alright, I admit that. It’s been one of those times in my life that sounds great on paper–if you get off on misery and if you romanticize inadequacy. I’d like to say that I was surprised to find myself in this situation, but the truth is, I have expected it to come at one point or another because I have never really not been the type to somehow find ninety-nine cent frosting bits smeared across my laptop. Yes it was ninety-nine cents, yes I ate it with my hands, yes I ate it in under four days, yes I did this completely on my own, and yes I enjoyed it and felt that it was, at particular wee hours of the morning, a truly smart decision…
These are tough times.

“Your vision, values and needs” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday November 1, 2015
11:32pm
5 minutes
An ad for a Life Coach

Your arms around my hips
I’m Aphrodite
I’m the Appalachians
I’m striking a match and setting the sky aflame
with the colours of our love

Your head in my lap
I’m the Saskatchewan prairie stretching all the way from
somewhere to nowhere
I’m the North Star
Guiding migrations and permutations

Your forehead pressed to mine
I’m more powerful than Plato
I’m brighter than the sun on the Sahara
I’m stronger than a thousand elephants charging East
I’m ready for all the rocket launches and the boomerangs

“It’s almost magic” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday September 15, 2015
8:08pm
5 minutes
From a vintage ad for American Cyanamid Company

last night
purple flannel twisted around ankles
my bum against your bum
you said grace
full voice
at first i was annoyed
i’m sleeping!
i’m kind of sick!
and then
i listened
i really listened
“thank you for this food on our plates
thank you for the love in our home
thank you for thanksgiving”
it’s magic
how you pray in your sleep
how you love in your dreams
how you bless me with your sweetness