“Where is the equal of Love?” By Julia on her couch

Saturday November 2, 2019
5 minutes
Sophocles (Trans. by E.F. Watling)

In the quiet lull of the fridge humming, the crack and button of the inner wall, the very reason for breathing–that is where the equal of love lives.

On the couch in the dark, our third eyes kissing, our fifth lip talking, the neck skin soft from holding all the travelled breath and the still, the still.

I found you again from the inside out and cosmically we both landed in a galaxy far away but made of this one.
We touched the only pulse and it reset the clocks and untied the knots.

The equal of love was in the freedom there, the choice to stay.

“the channeling of heavenly love” by Julia at her dining table

Tuesday November 8, 2016
5 minutes

But of course he’ll leave before we resolve anything because he wasn’t meant to stay. He didn’t pack anything for overnight. He didn’t bring a toothbrush or his stamina to fight. He didn’t want to get cozy in the curve of me because he was afraid he would want to stay and he couldn’t stay. He had already committed to his other life and I was not welcome in that one. I had to ask him, Why Did You Come Back Then? And he told me, I Felt A Pull On My Heart Like I Was A Puppet and I Couldn’t Lead My Own Way. I asked, What Kind Of Pull? A Cosmic One? The Kind You Have In A Dream? He told me, It Was The Channeling of Heavenly Love And It Made Me Want To Find The Source. But of course he’ll leave before we both understand what that means, and of course he won’t consider that the source is quite obviously me.

“THE BATTLE FOR CONTROL” by Sasha at White Squirrel Coffee Shop

Thursday December 12, 2013 at White Squirrel Coffee Shop
5 minutes
cover of aux magazine September 2013 issue

Cherry is looking at Jacob with those eyes, like the first snow on the rock in the garden. Jacob has had writer’s block since Luis got run over by a car. Cherry was standing on the other side of the road. She was calling “Luissss!” How she did, in that voice that was reminiscent of her Sixth Grade teacher. Few cars drove along their road. But that day, that unfortunate day, a black Dodge Caravan seemed to have some very important business to attend to. It’s driver wasn’t expecting a Collie, wasn’t expecting anything but a cool breeze and a cigarette. Jacob had never cried so much in his life. “Maybe my stories fell out my tear ducts,” he said to Cherry, one afternoon, munching on celery sticks. “Maybe…” Said Cherry, pretending that she knew the cosmic message that was floating about.