“like being naked with someone you haven’t been naked with” by Sasha on the plane

Sunday February 16, 2020
11:11am
5 minutes
Hot Pulse
J. Jill Robinson

Trust is a slippery fish that wriggles out of hands back into lake water
swims down to where the seaweed opens and closes
Finds a small “o” and swallows it and burps bubbles up
Face pressed against the float
breathe in the small pockets of air
upturn or downturn
Will he or won’t he break my tired heart?

The scales change colour and flake off
The mind says
This is always how it goes
Exhausted tune that the ears don’t even hear anymore
it’s so embedded and cozy in a down duvet
heavy limbs finally resting like they haven’t since
Before

Throw the line in far and fast
loaded the end of the rod with the finest bait
wide eyes
freshly sharpened wit
tears like seeds that sow
connection
some very strong one liners
playing with messy hands messy hair
looking down and then up and then down again
a promise collected on eyelashes
volleying and rolling and diving
with each
blink

The fish comes up to the surface and sucks on toes
Three times the size that she was before
Don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing
Deep throat
Gills ablaze
Tail tracing the shape of the timing
Folding irony over tenderness
kneading a dough of the very becoming

that births a perfect risk

“a home for spiders” by Julia on her bed


Tuesday, May 28, 2013
1:51am
5 minutes
Learning To Love You More
Harrell Fletcher and Miranda July


a home for spiders, a place to rest my weary head, a long journey home into the moon and all its pleasantries, a space where two minds can think the same thoughts, a dream that doesn’t end when the sun rises, a hope that’s far away from reality because it survives better that way, a collection of short anecdotes on life, love, and lying, a heart shaped mirror left in the bathroom to remind them both they want each other, a razor blade lodged in the drain of the bathtub, the pounding rain outside her window, the answer to the only thing she knows she didn’t ask, the peach pit rotting on the counter for three days collecting fruit flies and ants, a soft pillow used for decoration only, a tambourine with no drum, the cracked tiles in the kitchen that will never get fixed, a breath shared by yesterday and tomorrow, a memory of his first love when he’s trying to forget her