“Self-Portrait Image Dip” by Julia at her desk


August 13, 2019
9:08am
5 minutes
Self-Portrait
Lynne De Spain

Call me airhead, full of clouds, ideas, floating
The hummingbird visited me again this morning while

I laid on the patio with my book open to the sky and
she stayed, she stayed, she floated there with precision

And I let my swirled brain meet her in the suspension
call me airhead, cloud reader, dreamer

There is no feeder here, but sweet, sweet, she finds
me with my heart pumping like a flower blooming

I can stay here for years but I don’t and that is
fleshy leg, carrot stick bottom half, sturdy

I can dream minutes into moments and don’t you know
what kind of nectar that brings? Patience, potency

I rest my spotted soul on the ledge and teeter there
back and forth, do I fly or land, fly or land, fly

And what kind of ceremony do you bend a knee for?
Proofs and pouches spilling over, raining coins

Yes we can all bundle the bounty against the wish
for something off in the distance, but why, why, why

“Ordinary men and women” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday, May 29, 2018
10:00pm
5 minutes
Northern Ireland: The Case Of Bloody Sunday
Carole-Anne Upton

We sit at the cottage and eat breakfast built for two. You and me. One ordinary woman and one ordinary man. We tap forks the way we taught ourselves to love. Out loud. Ceremony. A reminder of all the good between us. You have managed to make perfect eggs and I have done the kale this time good enough to write about here. You can see the mountains from where you sit and in the reflection of the print above your head, I can see them too. They look nice.
The day is a heart beat away from making us wish we wanted to stay here. You are busy thinking of how to live somewhere else. I am wondering a lot at the thought of you going. What kind of letters will you send me? Ones filled with sorry, or sweet, or cash. I hope the latter. I don’t think my jobs pay enough for me to live in this apartment without you. Who will I eat my ordinary breakfast with? With who will I sit on my ordinary couch? Do phone calls and text messages keep the love alive? We will find out. One ordinary woman and one ordinary man.

“Namesake” by Julia on her couch


Monday December 23, 2013
10:58pm
5 minutes
the album Love Takes No Prisoners
Anthony Wilson

I was supposed to be a Zoe. My mother always liked that name but she felt weird giving me one that didn’t tie with the family. I’m glad she didn’t. It’s always weird thinking of the differences in my life that would come from just having a different name. I was worried when I was younger that my name would dictate everything. Not a Britney. Not a blonde. Not an Emily. Not the cute one. It was silly. I know that now. My father jokes about planning to name me Geppetto. From Pinocchio. That really bothered me. I was a dumb kid, I believed everything anyone told me. And I was mad at my father for trying to name me something so stupid. As if that were the real name I should have had and thus developed all the qualities that go with it.