“hitchhike into the wilderness” by Sasha at her desk

Saturday February 23, 2019
5:56pm
5 minutes
Trail’s End
Sy Safransky

Dragonfly and I hitchhike
to the tidepools and the lagoons
her in a floppy straw hat
and me in a floral sundress

We’re living in an intentional
community on the Big Island of
Hawaii and we’re chopping sugar
cane with machetes and making
papaya salad in exchange for
yoga and meditation classes
and learning how to co-habitat
with a dozen other seekers

In the tidepools we spot
starfish the size of a child’s
head we float on our backs for
hours in the lagoon
We eat three different kinds of avocados
with spoons

“we chase our dreams deep under water” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday December 22, 2013
9:12pm
5 minutes
Hold Me For Now
Skinny Bitches


My backpack is heavier than when I started, and not because I’ve picked anything up. Hiking the Kalalau trail came to me in a dream. I had just left my lover, lost my job and cut my hair. You’ve had those times, I know you have. We all have and will, still. During that time I dreamt of tigers and jungles and skies with rockets. I dreamt of slicing pig snouts and skiing across sand. And then, I dreamt of the Kalalau trail. I didn’t even know it existed. I had to look it up. I don’t do my “looking up” like most people of my generation. I take the Encyclopedia from the bottom of my bookshelf and sift through the transparent pages. There it is. An eleven mile trail on the Napali Coast of the smallest Hawaiian island, Kauai. I booked my flight and here I am, three months later, my backpack heavier than when I started. It isn’t actually heavier, but it feels so, my ankles blistered and my body covered in scrapes and sweat.

“once” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday December 11, 2013
7:56pm
5 minutes
from a poster for Once The Musical

Once, when I was standing on the edge of a volcano I was struck by my own significant insignificance. Then, two months later I looked at a man that I thought I loved and realized that what I really felt was pity. That was the same year that I saw Picasso. That was the same year I tried rambutan.

Lying on the black sand beach and feeling the water ebb over my toe-tips, I knew that I was on the right track. I’d gotten myself into the middle of the ocean, after all. I’d sprinted through the Vancouver airport after a snowstorm had threatened to kibosh my plan. Nothing could. It was impossible. I sat beside a man who was ready in shorts and a sunhat.

“I dare say you should have” by Julia at her kitchen table


Sunday, September 8, 2013
8:43pm
5 minutes
Chicken Soup for the Golfer’s Soul
Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Jeff Aubrey, Mark & Chrissy Donnelly


I’m not your dream girl, so wake up! That’s what she used to say to me. Wake up! Whenever I would say something stupid or ask a hypothetical question. Wake up! Oh, wake up! That would never happen. And then she’d saunter off into the bedroom and apply copious amounts of shea butter to her knee caps and just mutter to herself over and over again. I’d like to believe that I wasn’t always day-dreaming the way she assumed me to be. I saw her glow around her face, her smile, and I wasn’t dreaming at all. I was trying to take her in, the realness of her, and the realness of my lucky situation to be loved by someone so beautiful. Sher never liked it when I held her up, on what she thought was a pedestal. She didn’t like being up so high; afraid of heights; afraid of falling to her death. It wasn’t that high. But I couldn’t explain that to her even if I tried. I’d tell her I wanted to get married in Hawaii and she’d say that same thing to me again: Oh, wake up! It’s too expensive! Trouble is, she wasn’t dreaming big enough. She’d act like something was impossible without even fully considering it.