“Is it starting to rain?” By Julia on a bed in Mt. Washington, LA

Monday September 16, 2019
9:37pm
5 minutes
Afraid So
Jeanne Marie Beaumont

Don’t tell me–it’s dark there, riht? Don’t tell me. How do I leave a forever summer and come back to a place where my hands turn white with cold in August?
Don’t tell me it’s raining. It’s not, right? Don’t tell me. I am not prepared. My jacket was a dud but I ignored it. I’m not ready for what is waiting for me. Reality, to put it mildly. Here it is so dreamy. Here I am so dreaming. Planning. Thinking of how we can make it work. We can make it work, right, but don’t tell me if you think we can’t. We can do whatever we want to do if we say we’re going to do it and if we say we’re going to rise.
It was 29 degrees today. 34 in some places. I don’t want to think about the rain.

“I want.” By Julia in Mt. Washington, LA

Sunday September 15, 2019
8:42pm
5 minutes
Prayer
Galway Kinnell

I want to shit
I want to shower
I want to swim in the ocean again
I want to wash the salt out of my ears
I want to go to Joshua Tree
I want to live in a place where it doesn’t get cold
I want to sit quietly
I want to inhale mulch all day long
I want to finish my song
I want to practice patience
I want to be brave enough to rent a car by myself and drive it in a new city
I want to find another taco
I want to buy those gold shoes
I want to get people excited about making things
I want to wave to an airplane and believe it’s waving back at me
I want to write the book
I want to be published
I want to go to Italy
I want to practice patience

“He shone with Heavenly Courtesy” by Julia on the 144

Friday September 13, 2019
3:30pm
5 minutes
Courtesy
Hilaire Belloc

I’m not asking for any kindness.
I never wanted kindness and I’m not asking for it.
Do you think I’m sitting up late at night crossing off names or putting tiny robotic checks next to the ones who opened the door for me?
I don’t need to keep track because nobody is ever doing anything out of kindness but out of fear that one day they’ll be punished somehow for not being kind. It is self-serving and I want none of it.
They talk about it like it’s some new age book, as if we’ve never considered things like this before.
How do you measure the absence of expectations? Is there a way to determine who did something without thinking that someway someday they would get their precious heavenly courtesy back?
Nobody gives away anything for free and I don’t want that kindness shining in my face like a flash-light illuminating.
There are too many awards and rewards and systems based on punitive response for there to be a thing called kindness.

“If ignorance is bliss” by Julia at her desk

Thursday September 12, 2019
7:30pm
5 minutes
The Benefits of Ignorance
Hal Sirowitz

Pretend you don’t notice the ascorbic
acid plastered on all of my worst ideas.
I like it best when you don’t wear your
glasses during the day and can’t see
what I’m running from, or why I’m angry
or why I snap your neck between the
bite of my shame. Chomp chomp until
there is nothing less than apology.
Swallow till there is nothing left at
all.

Who teaches the class on letting things
slide? Are there any openings?
I don’t let anything fly under the radar
and I won’t give any free passes.
Only in dreams do I stop caring about
every last drop of you and what you’re
made of in relation to me. Only in dreams
do I chase the tail of other men who
don’t care about me one way or the other.

Last night you were waiting in the wings
to hear one more stupid decision I made,
a snap judgment with a whole lot of
consequence. You never showed your face,
but you were there, holding it over me
like you already knew.

“He can fix anything” by Julia at her desk

Wednesday September 11, 2019
8:23pm
5 minutes
Easter Morning
Jim Harrison

Summer speaks in rhymes and rhythms
says she can’t help it
says she was named after the season
of love

Autumn falls for guys who the rest
of the world can see through
falls in love and on her knees
and can’t help but get crunched
and kind of likes the sound

Aliens and astral planes can fix
anything, he says they can heal
you if you let them, if you
believe in the medicine they
bring from the outside in

Helmets and hardware, he says,
is all you need when you’re
afraid to bike down the street
Says preparation is how to
avoid disaster

Sunday talks about the tsunami
course that readies anyone for
a natural and life-threatening
act of god
She says she’ll take notes if
she doesn’t die from fear

Summer speaks in rhymes and rhythms
says she can’t help it

“The courage that my mother had” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday September 10, 2019
8:53pm
5 minutes
The courage that my mother had
Edna St. Vincent Millay

They all bet on her, did you know that?
She was the quietest one and they all
put down their twenty-dollar bills with
confidence. “She’s going to be last.”

When my mother was in labour with my
brother, nobody saw it coming. She is
not the kind of person to screech or
claw, but she will sit softly on the
edge of her heart being thrust into
outer space, into another dimension.

She has always been this way,
underestimated, as though physical
size were an indication of anything.
She did not complain. Not when her
head was throbbing, or her knee
threatened to make her sorry she
ever tried to walk. Not when her
knuckles furled in on themselves,
not when she was giving birth to
all three of us.

She simply did it. Quietly.
And I did not inherit that
from her.

When the nurses found out that my
mother was the first of all the
labouring mothers to deliver,
they yelled at her.
“You just lost me twenty bucks,
lady.”

“Four beating wings” by Julia on the 84, then the walk home

Monday September 9, 2019
9:31pm
5 minutes
The Dalliance of Eagles
Walt Whitman

Running into you the other day
At the bowling alley…
That was shitty for me but it
Looked excellent for you seeing
As though you were being chatted
Up by a few different humans, mostly
women, mostly young women, mostly
young women who I wish I could tell
to run very far away from you

You once told me that you were
desperate to get off this ship
that was only heading in one
direction and that they don’t
want you on it anyway

You are the sinking ship

Everything about you is foreshadow
and everything you touch turns to
mud the way you think it’s being
done to you
You are the mud
The thick sludge that traps people’s
boots and keeps them low, you swallow
them with your whiskey tongue
You take everything down with you

Maybe those girls don’t know that
about you yet because upon
first glance you are the maiden
voyage, a divine craft of this weighted
possibility

“Spoons our fingers” by Julia on The Lost Chair

Sunday September 8, 2019
8:32pm
5 minutes
After Love
Maxine Kumin

Fine is the last thing I say in anger
and Bye is the last thing you say in jest
but you think I’m joking and I have no real
reason to be mad at you other than I have
stopped picking my face (okay yesterday was
the last time) and need to pick at something
so the control can lie to me a little bit.

I’m mad because I thought I made a good point
and you said you know what I mean and then
that was that. Spoons as fingers, we were
crossed wires and I caught you in the act.
You thought I wouldn’t notice that you didn’t
have any words to come back to me with, that
you shrank into a small hole and thought I
couldn’t see you there running away from me.

I am mad because I want to love you but
sometimes you say you’re here but you’re not
here and I don’t know where you go. I don’t
know where in your mind you are and I know it’s
none of my business and none of mt business
but I want to know where is better than here;
where is the place you’d rather be than in
this moment with me, with my good points,
with my nice legs.

I’m sitting here not waiting for you to come
back but angry at you for leaving and you better
know I know the difference. That I can feel you
drifting off from a mile away.

“I was so amazed” by Julia at her desk

Saturday September 7, 2019
3:19pm
5 minutes
Feasting
Elizabeth W. Garber

The plants on the window sill drooped as the door shut behind you.
We didn’t ask for such living things to care for and there we were
with thumbs turning green, scooping soil out of bags and into pots.

The wilting started when you had your second shoe on.
I didn’t see it happen but I knew, the way a soft gaze lets you see
the entire room without blinking, or braiding a second without letting go.

You held my cheeks in your hands as if you hadn’t handled the roots
of what we were sowing with such promise of tomorrow.
I believed you by the cup of your palm and I believe you now.

You are not beholden to me the way this plant is not obliged to live forever.
I wouldn’t expect anything to stay for eternity, but the pain comes from
wanting so badly for you to.

I was amazed at the breeze left inside the room after the smell of you
had dissipated gently into the ceiling. I thought you would cling to the
window screens but you were small enough to pass through even those.

“Any sense if Sunday can work?” by Julia at her desk

Friday September 6, 2019
8:24pm
5 minutes
From a text message

I don’t remember the day now because it was 4 years ago. 4 years ago you gave me the idea: we could move to a new city and start new lives. That was it. That was as far as it got. And I thought you were nuts. Out of your tree. Lost your mind. You were tired of living in a place that required a block heater but I was never good in the rain, so why did I let you explain what you were hoping to do? Too early to head back home because you weren’t ready to settle down. Too cold to stay where you were. Too small.

Maybe you told me on a Skype call while I was filming that TV show. Was it Providence? Was it the day I missed you so much I decided I would go where you go and stop putting up walls around all my soft, gooey, fleshy parts?

Tonight we celebrated some of our recent successes, one of them being living here for 4 whole years with new lives. You said you loved us as adults, and it hit me in that moment that when we met we were kids. Children. What could we possibly have known? This city has been good to us because we chose to fully be here. We saw ourselves rising and we did. We really did.

Finally, we go all out at the restaurant we’ve been meaning to make reservations at. Finally we manage it and finally we don’t limit ourselves by only ordering the cheapest items. We try things. We love things. We clink forks with every bite, every embrace of where we are. And then at the end…the beautiful man beside us pays for our entire meal. We don’t find out until he leaves. And we can’t believe it. How much this city has given.

“sometimes come last” by Julia on L’s couch

Thursday September 5, 2019
9:30pm
5 minutes
Sometimes I Like to Curl Up in a Ball
Vicki Churchill

I have done a lot today. I won’t list it here cause All I Am Are Lists Lately.
I want to talk about something important. Sometimes I don’t want to talk about myself but I start the sentence with I because I know I will be able to follow it. We. I also believe in what is powered by us, what we’ve built, who we are and choose to be. I could write a list about that too but I’ll spare you the details. Nobody wants details unless they’re in them. Like dreams. Like clouds for resting your chin on. You is something to be seen in. If I say You, you get to believe it really is even if the You I am talking about keeps changing. I know about You. I know about I. I know about We. I don’t know about It as much or The, but I know about This. And These. These five minutes, This heart lifting symphony, Those 3-dollar earrings I got in Chinatown that two people took photos of so they could try and make a pair themselves…

“I could not agree with those who called the autumn a decline” by Julia at her desk

Wednesday September 4, 2019
9:08pm
5 minutes
Earthly Paradise
Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette

I will always recall the critique of my sixth grade teacher
in front of the entire class one afternoon as she made an
example out of me. The task was to draw three autumn trees
with pastels; the reds, the oranges, the golds.
I drew two reasonably lovely trees. I had spent so much time
getting those two just so and the bell rang. We were painting
on the hill outside our classroom and I was inspired by the
falling leaves, the perfect newness of September and all its
promise. Instead of quickly or poorly drawing one more tree,
or admitting that I couldn’t get it done in the time allotted,
I decided on the spot to rip the edges of the white paper to
frame the two trees I had drawn with an intentionality that I
was prone to back then. Such creative choices were so easily
discovered. I ripped it to give it a rustic look that would
mirror the trees and all their splotchy crowns: the dabs, the
finger tip strokes. When my teacher showed it to everyone she
said, This person was so lazy, they only did two trees and they
couldn’t even be bothered to use a pair of scissors.

“So close to the end of my childbearing life” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday September 3, 2019
8:46pm
5 minutes
The Girl
Marie Howe

So close to the dream of what I used to believe in
and here we are smiling our hearts out at the little
ones down at the water, running or screaming, or
staring back at us with tiny fists.

I have never needed to prove my allegiance before
and I still don’t, but now I want to. I want to
give you a girl with a mix of our eyes or a boy
with your lips.

But when, when, it’s getting later and later and do
we stay here in this comfortable life for a little
while longer or do we fly fly like we talked about?

The cobble stone is calling us, the seaside, the
dream, the reason why you’re learning a new language
on Duolingo every morning and why we speak together
every night at dinner in a tongue that tickles.

How much longer do we put off this wishing, this
future of us joining hands with two more? How much
older can I be before we are ready to land…

Or do they co-exist, the new country and the new
baby, the new life and the new beating heart.
Do we all get what we need when we need it?

“translator, teacher” by Julia at her desk

Monday September 2, 2019
9:19pm
5 minutes
from a bio

in the offering tonight, over papaya salad too bitter
and a bucket of rice as plain and soothing as it gets

a slight hesitation of fear is replaced with the true
realization that this is what we do, this is what we make

And yes i say yes to you asking with your teeth giddy
and yes i say yes to the work that is transformative

because this is what we do, I do, we can remember
And you want to come home to yourself and i want to

greet you at the door because you are so damn alive
inside when we’re scheming together and i am so much

more reliable now that i’m not fucking with that old
stuff like i used to, so when we make a decision i can

tell you honestly why or why not or when or how or if
And the heart is less stutter these days, more roar

The brain is more fire these days, less air, the triumph
is in the decision to collect our secret vulnerabilities

at the foot of one another and laugh there about nothing
even when the chicken is too dry and the work, we know

will be long, or hard, but good. Always, always good.

“and the words still ring true” by Julia at her desk

Sunday September 1, 2019
12:37am
5 minutes
From Christy Webb’s Directors Notes (Lungs)

The words still ring true, like a bell
and you know that you cannot un-ring a bell?
I know that. I know that because I say it
all of the time. Did I make it up? I mean,
did any one of us make up any one thing?
No, I must have heard it somewhere, but
I don’t know anyone in my immediate circles
who say it, and if they do, I surely said
it first to them, but where did I get it?
These words that still ring in my ears and
breathe life into my lungs…Lungs. I don’t
have a quippy metaphor about lungs. Bells
I like, bells I understand, bells I know
the sounds of. Ring ring, the bell on the
door, the bell in the clock tower, the bell
on the fine gold chain that belonged to my
mother but that she lets me wear because
I love it so much. I didn’t have the impulse
for the necklace itself, as in, I was not
the first person to choose it, but I wear it
every day and I muse on the ringing of it
every time. And some words that still ring
true after all this time are I love You and
tonight when I said them, I heard the bells.
I did, I heard them.

“Mandala-Image Dip” by Julia at her desk


Saturday August 31, 2019
9:36pm
5 minutes
Mandala
Margaret Collis

Okay is this our future? Me you and this baby
that we talked about having and then keep having
conversations about but only when the universe
decides to throw darts at us and prick us with
tiny messages from outside ourselves? Reminding
us that we are very much of the earth and on the
earth and of the people on the earth, not different
not unique, really, since aren’t those thoughts
my thoughts, and those words, yours? Didn’t I say
something like that yesterday or last month and
now, tonight, the woman in the play says the
same exact sentiment? Didn’t I write that play
one afternoon, one argument ago, one plea to
get married, one yes or no about the future?
Me and you and this baby that we’ve talked
about are all in the room now, not talking
about what might be true for them and us now
and in the future. This idea, this earth, we
are living on and in and for and it’s only
an idea, isn’t it? Only a fraction of what we
could be thinking about or acting upon, and the
actors tonight said the words. They said what
you’ve asked, and what I’ve denied, and everyone
in the room was crying so, is everyone having
this very same conversation? About the earth
and about the future and about babies and about
if we’re good people, or if we’re all lost…

“Am I able to follow the spirit of love” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 30, 2019
9:04pm
5 minutes
Quote by M.C. Richards

All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down to the river Ohh
all the way
all the way
all

Do I follow the spirit when it tickles my tongue
do I answer when I hear it, do I make it all known

All the way down to the river Oh
All the way down

Do I listen when it finds me, do I put it all to bed
do I know that it’s the right time, do I ignore it instead

All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down

Is the secret in the lost sheets, do I make my bed each day
Is the tousled off what’s for keeps, do I hold it close and say

All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down

All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down

When the quiet takes its turn on, do I build a bigger space
If the hardship sails with me on, do I find a hiding place

All the way down to the river Oh
All the way down

All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down

We’ve got millions more of these things, resting in our finger tips
heaven knows us in the tight seems, and we slowly part our lips

All the way down to the river Oh
All the way down

All the way down to the river
All the way down

“Am I able to follow the spirit of love” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 30, 2019
9:04pm
5 minutes
Quote by M.C. Richards
All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down to the river Ohh
all the way
all the way
all
Do I follow the spirit when it tickles my tongue
do I answer when I hear it, do I make it all known
All the way down to the river Oh
All the way down
Do I listen when it finds me, do I put it all to bed
do I know that it’s the right time, do I ignore it instead
All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down
Is the secret in the lost sheets, do I make my bed each day
Is the tousled off what’s for keeps, do I hold it close and say
All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down
All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down
When the quiet takes its turn on, do I build a bigger space
If the hardship sails with me on, do I find a hiding place
All the way down to the river Oh
All the way down
All the way down to the river Oh
all the way down
We’ve got millions more of these things, resting in our finger tips
heaven knows us in the tight seems, and we slowly part our lips
All the way down to the river Oh
All the way down
All the way down to the river
All the way down

“and create a platform” by Julia at her desk

Thursday August 29, 2019
8:56am
5 minutes
from the Arts Council of New Westminster

Here is a platform that I have created. You can use it.
You can do with it what you want. If you need some ideas
on how to get started, I can help. I am the one who created
the platform.

Step 1) Step onto the platform
Step 2) Open your face
Step 3) Open your heart
Step 4) Breathe
Step 5) Breathe lower
Step 6) I mean really, way down, all the way lower
Step 7) Look out
Step 8) See out
Step 9) Take it* in (The everything that you see, the nothing you see, the in front of you, the negative space, etc)
Step 10) Receive it
(The everything)
Step 11) Open your face
Step 12) Open your heart
Step 13) Breathe
Step 14) Breathe in and out and around and down and over and under and through and in and out and around and down
Step 15) Say
something (using your eyes, your mouth, your nose, your ears, your guts, your arms, your hands, your toes, your spirit, your soul, etc)
Step 16) Do
something spontaneous (*Be, feel, trust)

“We need to withdraw from impatience” by Julia on her couch

Wednesday August 28, 2019
9:21pm
5 minutes
Quote by Carol Antony

And yes the clock strikes again and we think it’s Time doing the hitting but
we are the ones who have created the gong. We are the ones who have made violent the existence of passing hours.
I am no longer taking part in the flogging of Time.
What did Time do other than heal all wounds?
And return our hearts back to a functioning shape?
Did Time cross off the calendar or was that us again, trying to prove the finality
of things, the endings of days and longings for new ones?
Time fluttered lightly in the wind and we are the ones who caught it,
who captured it in a ticking bracelet and strapped it to our wrists as if it belonged to us.
Time kissed the forehead of every mourning mother, of every brand new life,
and whispered gently that we might remember.
Why must we place our minds in moments not yet lived or ones that have already past?
Isn’t there space to breathe anymore at the raw and open sky,
expanding past our dreams and doubts and daring hearts?

“I was what I stood there for” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday August 27, 2019
8:44pm
5 minutes
Later, When I Am Carried Forward This Far
Parm Mayer

I waited for the answer to fall down from the sky
with a little help from whoever was doing the sending.

I’ve been praying more these days and I have said
I wouldn’t call upon the clouds because of what

they did the last time. I never stood tall in the rain.
I never held hope in the grey. I waited waited then and

now I’m waiting waiting still. It’s different these days.
The time in between seems like the right amount to hold

my breath. Lady tells me how much good the Good Lord has
done for her and I haven’t seen the spoils cause I haven’t

been to church. Not since what it did the last time.
Traded Fridays for a cheap lava lamp, get those dumb

kids off the street with bribery and with the false
light. Already members got a discount ticket to Lazer Quest.

Lady tells me if I prayed I wouldn’t have to use
Jesus’ name and I don’t think I will cause of what

he did the last time. Showed up on my wall to give
me the message, masked in love but laughing out the
devil’s truth.

“deposited myself in your softest corner” by Julia at her desk

Monday August 26, 2019
8:35pm
5 minutes
Your Room
Robert Sherrin

I saw him at a distance and couldn’t get my
soft away from the bone in time

I needed to do something different in this
case, in this particular case, a few limbs

now unhinged and so we tell them this story
A wish is not usually enough, we tell them

but in our case it seemed to work out fine
so we always keep fallen eyelashes in the

special jar that we see every time we open
the fridge or put on the kettle in the morning

He saw me at a distance and couldn’t stop
wondering at the smell of me long enough

to keep himself away from each and every
part of me worth sniffing

We tell them, if they ask, or if they don’t
we tell them this story

“She has even lost one leg” by Julia at her desk

Sunday August 25, 2019
9:07pm
5 minutes
Fetish
Pierre Reverdy

It is too bad, really, a shame, that she has lost one leg to the bed
and one leg to the floor. Nobody knows what to do anymore. The pull

between is too strong. She has tried to step out into the real world
but one of her legs remains asleep, under the duvet, sweating.

She is convinced that her legs aren’t speaking to each other and wouldn’t
listen based on how things have been going. They wouldn’t be willing, is

what she is saying. This may be a mountain imagined where a small hill
sits, but for her it is very true and very powerful, and hard to avoid.

The leg on the floor is doing a lot of lunging, trying to remove the leg
from the bed, so they are in fact talking, but at this stage it doesn’t

appear that they are speaking the same language, and thus, the
break down of communication. One is saying sakjadsadsjafkkafj and one is

saying, i hear you talking but I can’t understand what you’re saying. What
are you saying? Is that about me? Is that directed over here, or at yourself?

The leg in the bed is doing a lot of worrying, perceiving the floor to be
too slippery, too dangerous, too leading into the next room or beyond that

heaven forbid. The body in between both legs is almost being ripped apart,
this heave, this ho, this here, this there, this what are you talking about?

“so much past inside my present” by Julia on the Ebus from Chilliwack

Saturday August 24, 2019
10:09pm
5 minutes
Past in Present
Feist

I prayed to the sweet in my finger prints,
the gold that has been found in all the touching.
I thanked the god that had done the speaking.
I knelt down to the alter of my former self: Great Teacher.
Oh how I wept.
How there was a deep whisper.
But how loud.
But how I listened.
The gentle nudge of spirit,
the family of cells storing memory in my dreams and letting me remember.
Oh how I remember.
The way a crowd would bring out my inner coward,
how I would ask to start over.
And Teacher Self bathed in love now,
in abundance now, I needed you as you were then.
I needed you exactly as you were.

“There must be something to worship.” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 23, 2019

6:01pm
5 minutes
Quote by Henry Miller
i pray to the sound your glove makes when
you catch my hardball, zooming
I pray to the clap my glove makes when I
keep your throw from falling
I do this back and forth dance today and
i will do it again tomorrow
i will stretch the elbow and meet you on
the green, in the rain, in the sun, i will
meet you there like i did today
You can shoot a smile at me through the
sunflower seeds and i feel like the only
thing you’ve ever turned your lips up at
If i’m stuck inside my head, you move me
back into my body with a nudge and a
curve ball, and a pop fly that makes me
run but that gets all the applause when
i find a way to get to it on time
you don’t let me cower back into my own
fears, you keep me paying attention,
whipping speed past my eyes and into
this moment this here and this now
i pray to the mightiness of our arms over
the last few years since we discovered
we were both happiest when we were
doing this together
i pray to the fields we’ve run and learned
on, and i pray to the kiss at the end that
changes the game each time

“There must be something to worship.” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 23, 2019
6:01pm
5 minutes
Quote by Henry Miller
i pray to the sound your glove makes when
you catch my hardball, zooming
I pray to the clap my glove makes when I
keep your throw from falling
I do this back and forth dance today and
i will do it again tomorrow
i will stretch the elbow and meet you on
the green, in the rain, in the sun, i will
meet you there like i did today
You can shoot a smile at me through the
sunflower seeds and i feel like the only
thing you’ve ever turned your lips up at
If i’m stuck inside my head, you move me
back into my body with a nudge and a
curve ball, and a pop fly that makes me
run but that gets all the applause when
i find a way to get to it on time
you don’t let me cower back into my own
fears, you keep me paying attention,
whipping speed past my eyes and into
this moment this here and this now
i pray to the mightiness of our arms over
the last few years since we discovered
we were both happiest when we were
doing this together
i pray to the fields we’ve run and learned
on, and i pray to the kiss at the end that
changes the game each time

“What beauty, friend, grows in your darkness?” by Julia at her desk

Thursday August 22, 2019
8:37pm
5 minutes
Freeing The Creative Spirit
Adriana Diaz

I am asking some of those tender spaces
those in between here and now places
if i love myself and if the answer is
yes, 100% yes i do then what am i willing
to commit to

I must leave the dirt on the floor, i
must stop eating out of garbage cans
and stop expecting to be filled up, i
must wait patiently at the tooth-edged
sword that wants to jab and hit and poke,
i must close my eyes more and find some
softness in the hidden drawers

In my darkness there grows a beauty
it first comes from rage and from pain
and then it blossoms into something i
can’t name or won’t name in case if i
do it blows the petals off in a fury
there is a quiet and there is a small

i must share my darkness with myself
so i can name her and then forgive her
and hold her and let her sleep in my
bed and give her chewy biscuits

I must love her the way i would a
daisy or a snail; slowly

“What beauty, friend, grows in your darkness?” by Julia at her desk

Thursday August 22, 2019
8:37pm
5 minutes
Freeing The Creative Spirit
Adriana Diaz

I am asking some of those tender spaces
those in between here and now places
if i love myself and if the answer is
yes, 100% yes i do then what am i willing
to commit to

I must leave the dirt on the floor, i
must stop eating out of garbage cans
and stop expecting to be filled up, i
must wait patiently at the tooth-edged
sword that wants to jab and hit and poke,
i must close my eyes more and find some
softness in the hidden drawers

In my darkness there grows a beauty
it first comes from rage and from pain
and then it blossoms into something i
can’t name or won’t name in case if i
do it blows the petals off in a fury
there is a quiet and there is a small

i must share my darkness with myself
so i can name her and then forgive her
and hold her and let her sleep in my
bed and give her chewy biscuits

I must love her the way i would a
daisy or a snail; slowly

“it is the revelation of the god-like” by Julia at her desk

Wednesday August 21, 2019
5:31pm
5 minutes
Quote by Nicholas Berdyaev

So i double booked myself on Wednesday.
You said you could meet me after i could
meet you and then i realized that i had said
yes too quickly again and i’m sorry

i think i didn’t want to see you more than
the other thing but that’s because you
forgot my birthday last year and i guess
i still haven’t forgotten that

now you’re telling me it’s your birthday
the next time i’m free to meet you and
i don’t know why but i don’t care and i
don’t want to make it my problem

It’s not just that you forgot my birthday
last year, it’s that you invited me over
to your place to celebrate and then when
i got there you didn’t even mention it

So i was excited to be doing something
sweet like being celebrated on my
birthday and i could have stayed home
and smoked weed and danced by myself

I could have made plans with any of my
other friends but I chose you and the
realization never even came to you, not
late but never and that’s the weirdest part

As far as you know I’m the only one in the
world who doesn’t get older every year.

“Art making as a playful, life-supporting activity” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday August 20, 2019
6:15pm
5 minutes
Quote by Joseph Zinker

i throw my hands into the muck
praise be i have muck to touch
and if i touch the much with my
hands then i will not need to shit
talk any of my friends or any of
the people i say i’d never be
friends with and why do i ever do
that when my life is good, really
good, do i think it’s funny or do
i think my good luck might be
running out and this might be
the end of the road, heard it
here first i am back in the muck…

i throw my brush into the muck
and paint a horrendous image
of beauty the way i see it in my
head and i don’t stop until the
whole canvas is brown and ripped
i thrust this much and that until
i am fully fledged and humbled
like i must be if i am to create art
or if i want to be alive among
humans and give art that comes
from the knowing that we are
so similar that this is an extension
of everything, that you and me
are either both clean, or both
in the muck even if it’s not the
same time

“and eyesight a lying sense” by Julia at her desk

Monday August  19, 2019
7:28pm
5 minutes
Lives Of The Eminent Philosophers
Diogenes Laertius

i see you see you i am seeing you
but you are not there and you are
not mine or here or anything but
you are here and here you are but
i do not see you i see you but i do
not see you because i can’t see you
if i can’t see anything anything at all
i am seeing you with my eyes but
they are lying they aren’t telling the
truth because they see what they want to see and not what is there because what is there is glowing too bright
and too bright is the wound in the
retina detaching from the eye and
is that how sight works in the first
place is that how science is when
it is working and i am seeing is that
right or is that an idea of the mind
that is seeing false things when the
seeing thing is detached i am seeing
that i am detached from you and you
are here but not here because i am here and not here and seeing what i want to see and seeing what i can but
not what i need to see and this hurts
like it’s never hurt before i am seeing
what is there but more what is not and
you are there and and and you are there
and you are not there here there here
you are not here because there is a piece
missing and there is always something
missing always something detached and
if it is not the retina then it is my heart
and my heart is floating and you are here
and i am here but everything is floating

“But he was never seen practicing” by Julia at her desk

Sunday August 18, 2019
1:38pm
5 minutes
Cato The Younger
Plutarch

He says he sets his alarm for 8:08am and that’s the earliest he ever gets out of bed on the weekdays.
Weekends? Jury’s out on that one. He says he wants to play basketball in a city that actually gives a shit.
He says the YMCA doesn’t have enough diversity. Not for what he’s used to.
Whatever that means coming from Ottawa.
When I ask him about the basketball courts near the beach he acts like he’s never heard of them.
I almost say but don’t: IF YOU WANT TO PLAY BASKETBALL YOU SHOULD GO TO A PLACE WHERE BASKETBALL IS PLAYED.
But he’s resistant to the thought of leaving his house.
In fact, I have never seen him practicing anything other than his litany of complaints about this city.
I too have traveled from away to get here, and I won’t be too judgmental since I used to talk shit
about everything and everyone and why don’t I fit in this, and why can’t I do that…
But I was homesick. So maybe he’e homesick. Or maybe he wants to say all the bad stuff to justify
his next escape move to another city. Tell them it wasn’t fulfilling, or the people didn’t meet
your expectations, or you couldn’t find any fucking basketball past the easy places to look…
I mean, if you were really that into something, wouldn’t you have searched high and low to find the right fit?

“in the present moment for” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 16, 2019
7:58am
5 minutes
Meditations
Marcus Aurelius

Right now we are fighting the comfort of our bed
fighting the snooze as if together we might be
more successfulLight enters the whole room but we trap it under
the pillows and right now we are on the same team

Tomorrow is another story
Tomorrow can’t be written yet

Right now you are sleep singing to me and yesterday
is not here in the bed, yesterday could not make it
to today’s meeting because yesterday has turned

In a babble we are speaking about the day that has
yet to materialize because right now is all we are
right now is what we have and if we stretch it

and if we let it leak into the next moment for a little
while longer while we sleep on the skin of each other’s
back, while we fight waking, it’s me and you

against the cloudy sky and sun trying to tell us something
We don’t listen if it means one more
configuration holding ease and comfort and promise

This afternoon is another story
This afternoon hasn’t wandered in through the
window yet and we don’t go chasing it

Right now we push the heels of our feet into
the soft of our arches, and whisper a couple mmms
into the hem of our sheets

“we should not trust the masses” by Julia at M and D’s table

Thursday August 15, 2019
1:03pm
5 minutes
Discourses
Epictetus

This tiny bug starts crawling on my arm
and I know I’m not supposed to freak out
about a tiny bug but I’m afraid because
my dad told me that they were going to
suck my blood and even though I have
never seen teeth on a bug this teeny tiny
I believe him because he is my dad and
why would my dad lie to me especially
if it’s about being bit or not being bit

I am going to the Philippines with my
mom and my dad told me there were
all kinds of bugs flying around there so
now I am scared of the Philippines the
way I am afraid of my backyard because
what if I get bit and then I never get to
see him again and I shouldn’t be going
in the first place if I know that there are
bugs that are always trying to land on me

I didn’t apply to university because my
dad said that there are so many people
all at once and he reminded me that I
don’t do very will with big crowds because
someone might step on me or hurt me or
stab me or steal my purse or push me or
take me and put me in their car and hide
me in their basement for 4-7 years while
I am forced to eat dust and have their babies

“foolish joy, greedy desire” by Julia at her desk

Wednesday August 14, 2019
8:36am
5 minutes
On The Brevity Of Life
Seneca

The wind is asking me to spill my secrets
I will not do it unless Mr. Jeff Buckley advises.
I am asking him a question and he answers
with his death cry and I listen, listen, as if he
knew my soul better than I did

Do I leak out the truth or do I bury it in the
backyard with all the other blood, all the                                                                                                                                                              cracked lips and hunted soft, do I, do I,                                                                                                                                                                Mr. Angel Jeff Buckley, do I, do I, do I?

We don’t all have the answers or the space
to dig them up since some of us want to
keep the soil on the earth instead of eating it
for breakfast and then again when the clock strikes midnight

If the wind wants me, should I give her the
whole of me or the hole of me and will she
notice the difference if I stood there shaking?
Mr. Angel Man says that these are the only options.

The whole of me is the hole in me, negative
space as much as the weight that I can trace
with my finger tip, do I, do I, do I?
I spin the web from underneath the deepest
pit, the ones I vowed no one would ever see.

“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

“Take a moment to remember” By Julia on the 4

Monday August 12, 2019
12:55pm
5 minutes
the bus instructions

Well I have 5 minutes to remember my whole life and i know I have more memories than time.
I remember you sitting above me in the lecture hall with your swoopy hair and your cool glasses, confident, quiet, intriguing. My eyes landed on you and I liked you instantly. You looked like someone I wanted to know. Like someone I wanted to kiss. You stared a hole in the back of my head and when I turned to look you didn’t stop. We made eye contact for one whole minute at a time, and in those days one minute was like one complete lifetime. You were in my tutorial afterward but you barely uttered a word. So confident with rows between us and no real reason to speak. I got my claws in you then. I remember wanting you to be watching when you weren’t and I let you know I knew it. I could tell this story with more time and more juice but I know I’m running out.

“the shedding of lint” by Julia at her desk

Saturday August 10, 2019
8:02pm
5 minutes
Laundromat
Carmen Pintea

We walk every morning toward a cinnamon bun and
everybody stares at you, watches you. I am but
a thread attached to your coat pocket, I do not
unravel, but lead, I lead you to the cinnamon bun
so you can walk without bumping into all the people
who are falling in love with you.
You and your gap-toothed mouth, little air bubbles
flying out, like an angel or a dream.
It would seem like you are drifting but that’s because
the people watching you give you lift by grabbing time
by the throat so she will slow down and let them see you
better. It is not magic. It is not good.
What’s good is a cinnamon bun and that is all you want
this morning, like every morning, not to be watched or
crossed or lifted from the earth, you have been begging
for dirt in your toe nails since the last time someone
tried to convince you that you were theirs.
It wasn’t me, I wouldn’t do it. I know what it’s
like to have the whole world needing something from
you that you can’t give them because it’s made up
from the inside places they hide all the wrong ideas.
I know because I wasn’t always a thread, I wasn’t
always a help, I wasn’t always so sure of how to
leave my house and find the cinnamon bun.
But because this lint sheds form the lining of our
hearts in the same way, I take you. I show you how.

“more relaxed than how I think I look to people.” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 9, 2019
9:34pm
5 minutes
Descension
David Ly

There is a teacher with his dick in his pants waiting
to eat whoever dares to look directly at it. Him.

I meant to say him. I meant to say his eyes but. Fuck.
Fuck it all. He wears those tight jeans and he’s begging

anyone with breasts to prove to him that he belongs in
front of us all, laying down some hard lust disguised

as hard truth. Another hard-on reference. I get the
innuendo, I’m fully fucking aware of it. He knows too.

He yells at me when I’m listening because my face looks
like it’s pissed off and that’s not me that’s just my

face. He’s not the first to think I look angry when I’m
not but he is the first to call me out on it in front of

the entire room and try to make me feel like shit for
something I didn’t even do. He wants to prove a point.

Once when I’m up there not all the way in it acting but
trying to, he gets in the way with his big dick voice;

he gets in my head. I yell at him from the wall I’m
standing on and he gets off at how mad I finally am.

“A funeral” by Julia at her desk

Thursday August 8, 2019
10:21pm
5 minutes
Sophocles
Charles Kell

it’s a colour i can’t name
so i don’t bother

it’s not about getting it right
but the proof of you being gone

is louder when there is something
to nestle your name under

once here now not
the categories of today and yesterday

and should have called you more
and should have loved you better

it’s sad because i would have written
a really nice eulogy for you and

i know now i am holding on to that
as if it might have brought you back

right before you’d have to hear me
deliver it in front of everyone

no words can bring you back and i
have to accept that as hard as it is

not mine and not yours and not god’s
or whoever is doing the talking now

at the funeral someone else spoke
and it was fine for someone who

isn’t the colour that you are
the colour that shall not be named

“sucking everything in.” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday August 6, 2019
6:50pm
5 minutes
Across This Body
Jeni De La O

I don’t know how many days I will write about time and
how many minutes

When i pour my coffee for the 3rd time you wait and
smile cause oh you see yourself in it

I never had addictions until i met you
I never smoked a thing until that night

And darlin’ I will wait for another puff
if it means you’re the one passing it to me

I don’t know how many days I will love this line
or the next one that inevitably follows

When i stumble on a phrase I like better than the feeling
it occupies inside of every swallow

I never had addictions until i met you
I never smoked a thing until that night

And darlin’ I will write this way till mornin’
Cause I’ve got the best obsession in front of me

I don’t know how many days I’ll write about time
and how many hours

When I dance for you after all the years of sucking in
you smile at my body of work and of beauty

I never had addictions until i met you
I never smoked a thing until that night

And darlin’ I will hold on to forever and again
if it means that you’re holding back to me

I never had addictions until i met you
and now you’re the one thing on my mind

“an overdose, the fire hall repainted red.” By Julia at her desk

Monday August 5, 2019
5:59pm
5 minutes
Orography
Alison Braid

It’s never as bad as it feels in the brain
Until the day that it is worse
And expectations of forever look like this:
Swollen eyes and spine shriveled
Everything pointing toward the floor
Oh Lord, is there anything lower?
The clock ticking bruises
The warning signs begin to dart around
as if they had been there the whole time
As if it were you alone responsible for the knowing
I do not give you anything that sounds like blame
You did not deserve this
You did not miss the signal

I have wanted to take back what I said because
I am angry now more than ever for you and I don’t
know how to be that when you might not need that
But it’s true and it is constant and
I want to go to battle for you
I am ready
I will bring my tiny-hearted arrows and I will
launch them at whatever target you give order to hit
I will hit each one because I have spent my life
practicing my aim and my arm is steady
You do not need to walk this alone even in the
moments after you think you have asked for too much

When the Phoenix rises from the ashes she takes
all of her sisters with her and forms a flock
of fire born sky-dwellers who can see as far
as this world may reach

“retirement and investment savings” by Julia on her couch

Saturday August 3, 2019
9:34pm
5 minutes
From a piece of mail

It’s true what they say, the banks are out to get us.
Mine charges me for being self-employed by making me pay a fee every time I exceed 12 transactions in a month. I could look into options that don’t include throwing money away but this stuff scares me because it makes me feel stupid and being stupid is one of my major fears.
I wouldn’t be able to admit that to just anyone. I am afraid of feeling small and helpless and useless and dumb and this perpetuates the cycle. I let the banks get me. I let them keep me small. I have no plans for investments or retirement because my brain doesn’t know how to think any further into the future than the next word after this. Maybe that’s fear too, keeping me believing that.

“she’s in a shoe store with her friends,” by Julia at her desk

Friday August 2, 2019
9:42pm
5 minutes
Some Notes Against the Burden of Representation
Rahat Kurd

She’s waiting for her dad because on Saturdays her dad takes her to lunch.
He takes her to the food court and lets her pick: Chinese food, or New York Fries.
He’s sweet to her on these days, shows her off to his employees.
They talk about her hair, how it’s like his, how she looks just like him.
She’ll help him rearrange the shoes in the window after she wipes down the clear shelf.
She feels like she’s helping him. He’ll likely redo it after she leaves.
The faster the shoes get organized in the window, the faster he can take his break.
He is sweet to her on these days, doesn’t tell her how to do it better.

He throws his tie behind his shoulder and dives in to the burger, or the chicken balls.
He asks if she’s done any good shopping yet and she tells him about the earrings she bought; little ladybugs
She won’t remember what they talked about years from now but here in this moment she thinks she’ll never forget.
Next Saturday she should ask her friend if she wants to come, he says he’ll drive them.
Maybe they could catch a movie at the Cineplex Odeon in the afternoon.

“Redeemable exclusively at” by Julia on her bed

Thursday August 1, 2019
2:40pm
5 minutes
From a Salvation Army flyer

you can cash in here
give your nickles and dimes
for a better time
sure you can cash in here

i’ve got some grief i need to redeem, trade it in for
a bucket of your best excuses
mourn the loss of every baby i let die in the mines after i finally said they could be gold

i did what i was told, held their hands and plugged their noses, dunked their heads and laid out roses
the goodbye don’t come easy when it’s not your time to go

you can cash in here, get your bang for your buck, i’m the counter with the tear duct tango and you’re trying to find someone to dip

“we always found a way” by Julia in a stairwell

Wednesday July 31, 2019
11:01pm
5 minutes
From a thank you card

you and me sunday driving
is the arriving and we have no where else to go

told me yourself you miss those open roads and those open throats where all that wants to say is said

where did the time go and why has it been so kind to us? Wrapping around our pinky fingers as a promise to always slow down when it counts

and when I thought I had more open doors in front of me to walk through than open roads to travel with you, we still found a way to try again

the heart is as beautiful as it is funny and we have seen so many faces of the same clock, so many different ticks tocking

with you with you with you
if this were a song it would be a deep bow

a thread holding us together strong enough to break to keep finding a sweetness in the fray

“Come visit me in Halifax soon!” By Julia on her couch

Tuesday July 30, 2019
8:58pm
5 minutes
From a thank you card

I remember visiting Halifax for the first time and I thought your parents’ place was right around the corner. Nope. It was a few hours away. There were way more mosquitoes. And I loved it. Not the mosquitoes-those bites swelled up as big as golf balls. But your family? Welcoming me with a huge pot of fresh mussels? I was in east coast heaven. I could have married you right then and there.

Your mom showed me photos of your playing with a guitar when you were so small and it melted my heart. I loved you even more seeing you with them. They loved you with the biggest love I’d ever seen.

When we went to see the whales, everyone said that each time on the boat they’d seen them. I didn’t see any whales and that was the only disappointing bit.

I will always remember your mom razzing me about being short, like an elf. I really hope she’s well. And your dad. I hope your sisters are great. And their kids. I don’t know how many there are now…

We were so young back then. We were so open to everything.

“I’ll try to sneak across the border somewhere, somehow” by Julia on A’s couch

Friday July 26, 2019
12:29am
5 minutes
Summer Of My Amazing Luck
Miriam Toews

you’re on the other side of the country right now. Missing me, you say, needing me. I’m feeling it hard right now. I’m feeling you. Thank you for believing in my dreams even when you won’t get those 15 minutes back. You listen. You always listen.

I am writing so many things about you, yoy’d think we just fell in love for the first time this year. But I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fallen in love with you. How many days are in a decade again? Somewhere around there.

Tonight I’ll find yet another bed to think of you in. I’ll meet you across the border of sleep and into the place we keep choosing. It’s nice there and it’s warm, and I know the breeze of you like the back of my hand. Even if I don’t see your face, I’ll know.

1234

“found the conversation a burden to listen to” by Julia in Baden

Wednesday July 24, 2019
11:29pm
5 minutes
Lonesome Dove
Larry McMurtry

Hurley wakes up early fries a couple of eggs

Shirley’s getting twirly cause she’s got her new legs

Izzy’s feeling dizzy with her head in her hands

Lizzy’s way too busy with those chaotic plans

Hurley’s loving Shirley when she twirls from her heart

Izzy’s missing Lizzy when she plans them apart

“It Helps To Ask” by Julia in A’s bed

Tuesday July 23, 2019
11:33pm
5 minutes
ECK Wisdom on Inner Guidance
Harold Klemp

A: For alone time?

B: Yeah, I have to ask.

A: Yourself?

B: Yeah. I have to check in.

A: With yourself…

B: Because my permission matters to me.

A: Oh, okay, it’s about your permission.

B: No, MY permission.

A: That’s what I just said.

B: But the emphasis was wrong.

A: Not how I intended it, the emphasis was correct for how I intended it.

B: But you weren’t getting the full scope of what I intended.

A: Okay, you know how you need your thing for you?

B: I… yes.

A: Do you see?

B: I… yes.