“we were exhausted” by Julia at J, W, and A’s house

Thursday, May 10, 2018
11:08pm
5 minutes
To The Beach
Brian Doyle

It was as if time travelled back into the clock and left us there, happy
The only thing we were waiting for was the still frame photograph of our lives once lived

At the end of the day there was a host of us bent over at the hip
hard and fast kiss at the moon, and a thank you brushing the cloud
We have lived here once, echoing like the faint buzz of a ghost pepper bleeding out from the lips
a lasting like this one and we were a donation
a giving of our bodies from one open wound to another
and we did not waver
we did not ask for cotton swabs or for distilled gin
We drank at the quiet like a dream coming home for the first time
We knew aching the way a mother of seven might.

“calm and balance your mind” by Sasha on her porch


Wednesday, June 17, 2015
8:13pm
5 minutes
The Epsom salt bag

If I made a claymation stop
motion
film of your life I would build
twelve tiny bathtubs
A blue one and a grey one and a yellow one
For the most important months
All the clocks of your life
The cycle starts orange and ends green
A single mint leaf in the bottom of the hand-painted porcelain teacup
I would use your fingers to move the tubs
Here and there across the counter
The marble
The table
The wood
The porch
Here and there they’d go
Dancing in the bumblebee sunlight
Tiny clawfeet
Shaped with a toothpick
You could have written the soundtrack but you don’t
You ask your twin to
In a dream
She hears you
She delivers an orchestra to my doorstep
Tuba and violin
Cello and piccolo

“If you don’t have it” by Julia at Cultura Italiana


Wednesday October 22, 2014 at Cultura Italiana
2:21pm
5 minutes
A recipe for millet banana bread

crazy days were behind us
we saw the sun
and the sunset moon
it was something to dream about
didn’t want to dream alone
crazy breeze
inside the hope’s heart
with a candle left burning
if you don’t have it
you can’t miss it
when it’s gone
crazy days
were hidden tightly
inside the cracks of the bark
the old lived rings of
time past
we saw the sun
and the sunset moon
it was better
than the memory
in that little moment
that tiny one just for us
if you don’t have it
you can’t wish it
was something else
or something
better
for words
otherwise
just pouring out of
fingertips, cut open
just like the blood
of the emotionless fight
it makes sense
because it doesn’t have to
and in a world without rules
it is the only thing
we can understand
and we try
and we listen
but we mostly try to keep
all the magic that we used to know
somewhere deep in the pockets
of time

“Thunderbird” by Julia on Jenny and Andrea’s lawn


Monday September 29, 2014
3:41pm
5 minutes
Jess’ imagineNATIVE tote

Roaring at me, this fucking thing. I’m like Beatrice, please, I can’t focus with your teeth in my neck. That’s what it feels like, this fucking thing, screaming so close that her gums might as well be rubbing my ear drums. I could slap her away but that won’t shut her up. Not even a little bit. And I’m not a bad guy. So fucking Yip Yip Yip, but she doesn’t seem to get what I mean. Too abstract, I’m being with her. But this little Chihuahua won’t let up and I’m not in the mood cause I smoked this thing and I don’t even know what it was, but clearly I needed it. Beatrice, I’m like, Beatrice—I think you either need to take a sweet shit or get fucking laid.

“You steal the water from the valley” by Julia at Bar Roma in Monteleone


Tuesday September 16 2014
5:35pm
5 minutes
Screenplay
Sid Field


An abstract painting is stuck in my mind-I think it’s an artist unknown and I think I dreamt about it this morning. It has lines across it like a grid and speckles of what I’m interpreting as gold or light are all winding around the thick grid’s lines. I think I’m happy to be in this memory but I can’t tell because I’m trying so hard to peace it all together to figure out what it means, and I know you’re not supposed to do that with abstract paintings. I know you’re not supposed to do that with abstract paintings. I know you’re supposed to just look at them and feel something, usually lifted or weighed down, happy or sad. When I see this painting in my head, I see it perfectly and I calculate it imperfectly. I become obsessed with the measurements, the directions, the reasons. I don’t know if I feel anything because of it other than confusion and attraction and my wondering of this angers me because then I’m stuck figuring out my feelings instead of just feeling them. I put down my guard for a second and a taste of honesty slips through. I can’t catch it in the air–I don’t dare welcome whatever might change me.

“Even if she is feeling like the scum of the earth” by Julia at her kitchen table


Monday June 2, 2014
11:38pm
5 minutes
an Instagram photo

She told me herself she didn’t feel like herself when the rain fell and when her stomach fell
I heard her say it with a faint ringing in my ear
I heard her say it cause I saw her there in the mirror
She was alone and cold and a full-blown ally to the dark side, to the wrong side
She was something that I could only dream about
Or wish for
She told me herself she didn’t feel much like singing when the sun was out
She would be there, crouched in the mud, trying to taste her mistakes
Trying to make a waterfall from her eyes’ outpouring
The earth is a wet and cold place
I heard her say it with a faint longing in my bones
I heard her say it cause I was stuck there inside her ribcage when her heart started screaming
Take me away
Take me so far away from this
And the sky would open with her desperate kiss
And she would lay there holding on to the only thing she knew

“I spent decades awakening” by Julia at her desk


Sunday, September 15, 2013
5:49pm
5 minutes
Her Account Of Herself
Amy Gerstler


Opened my eyes with the heart of what I wanted to say and I told the world one thing:
I AM HERE.
The world opened up its arms and held me close so I didn’t feel so alone in all my subconscious ramblings.
Then we walked hand in hand, me and the world, without sunglasses on so we could stare the sun right in the face.
We paused for a moment when I needed to change the song playing in my head. The world patiently waited for me to pick the one that best represented my spirit in that very moment.
I switched it to something without words so we could make up our own lyrics. We’re silly like that.
I decided I was meant for this. Whatever this was, and even if what it was was just walking. It was the best thing for me.
I AM HERE and I AM NOW.
It was beginning to be very clear what my goals should be.
I started listing them in a sing-song-like way.
I yelled out
NUMBER ONE
Make love into a braid and then wear it around my wrist
NUMBER TWO
Hold tightly to the kinks in my neck, my legs, and my fingers. To remember discomfort.
NUMBER THREE
Be an optimist and live to kiss tree roots