“WOMAN SENTENCED FOR BUTT INJECTIONS” by Sasha in her bed


Saturday March 28, 2015
9:39pm
5 minutes
An unknown transit newspaper

The city roars like a lion and she sleeps like a
dove
Wings tucked and coo-ing while feathers reminding us to
look up look down look deeper look through
The island calls with her harp and her pine needles
slugs leaving hope-slime
Will it be enough?
I’ll need to get a driver’s licence
Where do ambition and simplicity meet?
Let’s go there and
bring twelve lemons and our favourite books
One for me
(bell hooks)
One for you
(Dharma Bums)
It’s all we’ll need

“Inspired by the natural wonders” by Sasha on the pullout at the Angel’s Nest


Thursday January 1, 2015
11:21pm
5 minutes
from an Old Mout Cider pint glass
The trees are doing their belly dancing.
The ferns tickle the moss and the moss tries it’s best not to laugh.
The moon (the light) reflects off the dewy downy forest floor.
Quiet.
Quiet.
You turn away from me and I tuck my toes into yours.
The wood stove hums ancient wisdom of fire and following through.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of the sliding door.
Simple.
My hair is longer than I realized, far down my back now.
You like it like this.
I look into my eyes, beyond my eyes and the forest waits and waits and waits.
You make a small sound that can only be described as a “coo”.

“I begin to understand” by Sasha at her kitchen table in Vancouver


Tuesday August 19, 2014
11:04pm
5 minutes
You Got It
Roy Orbison


Gus and Mary ride the ferry to the island. When they get there, Gus kisses Mary on the cheek and says, “See you at the dock at 7:30, my sweet carnation.” She nods. He walks up the hill, the grass fading from green to yellow because of the lack of rain. It’s been a dry season and it worries him. He takes a hanky from the pocket of his jacket and blows his nose. His cellphone rings in his pocket. It’s Mary. “Hi beautiful,” “Gus? I’m not sure where to find Allison…” “She was going to meet you right where I left you…” “She isn’t here.” “Just wait on the bench, Mary. She’ll be there soon.” Gus hangs up the phone and thinks about the time before Mary forgot, before Mary called him every few minutes, when he could wander the island alone.

“mostly tiny sungrazing comets” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday, July 16, 2014
11:48pm
5 minutes
from the Sun Wikipedia page


When we barbecue on the porch in the rain, it reminds me of being ten on the Island. My grandmother would send my sister and I bus tickets. They’d come the week before we were set to leave. There’d be handdrawn postcard with the three of us and her husky, Farley. She’d meet us at the ferry dock, raspberries and dark chocolate in her hands. She’d kiss us on the mouth and hold us at arms length to take in each of the changes. “Nadine, you’ve got an extra freckle on your cheek!” “Odessa, you’re one eighth of an inch taller!” Farley would lick our toes as we giggled and shook our heads. She’d leave her old station wagon on the other side, and when we piled into the back there’d always be a fresh beach towel and a peach for each of us. We’d drive, windows down, Bruce Cockburn on the tape deck, until we arrived at her cottage by the sea.