“Falling in love is appropriate for now” by Julia in her bedroom

Monday March 25, 2019
10:42pm
5 minutes
Handy Tips on how to Behave at the Death of the World
Anne Herbert

Help, is anyone out there? Is anybody reading this? There are a lot of people worried and seeking and I know them. I am them. We might recognize one another at a party. Yes there’d be bread at this party. That would be giving the party a lot more value.

I’m…I guess..I’m wondering if I’m alone. I mean I know I’m not, I’m talking to you. You’re there. You’re looking at me and I’m you. Aren’t you? We? I feel united and excited and loved by that. That thought, the you me we thing, that acceptance, yes, that permission. I can say I love me and that would be like saying I love you and then you’d know love. I know love for me because and only because I see you in me, and you, YOU, you are easy to love. Easy to love with hands cuffed. Easy to love with lids droopy. Easy to love in the dark when the words hurt more than heal and your warmth does the talking. Easy to love like that.

“Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other.” By Julia in her living room

Friday March 22, 2019
8:13pm
5 minutes
A quote by Pema Chödrön

Said the Hellstorm to the Artist:

You will be damn insufferable and someone needs to come and wash you out, oopsie whoopsie itsy spider, time to crawl on back up. Said: don’t you remember where your boots are? Pull up the straps and go jump in a puddle. You do remember fun, don’t you? You need me as much as I need you. All that summoning of me you do, I’m just coming since you called me. I’m a good friend. Ever heard of loyalty? That’s me. I make you damn clean again. Sparkling. Smooth out your edges after so long of bruising myself against them. After I pelt you and you resist me, over and over again. I make you soft and grateful. You can thank us both for that.

“exhale passively” by Julia in her living room

Tuesday March 19, 2019
9:44pm
5 minutes
Physiotherapy Instructions

Yesterday you asked me why I had given such a deep sigh. I thought it was self-explanatory: I needed it. But why did you need it? Cause you are exasperating. But you didn’t like that answer. You don’t think you’re exasperating. Sometimes I blow out air that’s keeping me angry at you. Sometimes it holds the place of my longing, my crying. I do not exhale passively around you since I decided I was going to give you the full range of me. Here, this is me existing without alterations, reservations, or tiny lies.

Yesterday I shook my hips around while we were laying in bed. I didn’t stop to apologize and you did not ask me to stop. The body sometimes needs permission to be alive. To exist.

I like it better this way. The breathing more intentional the view in front of me tangible, clear, echoing.

I shake and breathe and you ask me why and I tell you why. I’ve always wanted an intimacy like that.

“apartment door was closed and triple-locked” by Julia at her desk

Monday March 18, 2019
8:56pm
5 minutes
The Langoliers
Stephen King

I can’t have you look at me that way
With eyes dripping pity
Boy you never looked less pretty
I don’t want your face to say
You knew better all along or
This is a self-inflicted song
Weeeeeooooo the wound is pulsing
Weeeeeooooo the pressure rushing
I’m not cut out for this
Can’t handle a setback or a twist
Where’s the paper I signed up for
Can’t recognize my signature from a blood stain on the floor
Weeeeeooooo the ground is home
Weeeeeooooo this place is normal
Maybe I was wrong once or twice
But I never kept the knife jabbed in
Who are you to know my sins
Can’t have judging eyes
No one look at me

“A yellow ball of sun. “ by Julia at Kits Beach

Sunday March 17, 2019
6:19pm
5 minutes
The Lovely Bones
Alice Sebold

Maybe he’s a magician. He knew which cure I needed.

I said, I won’t be leaving the house today and he opened all the windows. Slowly he nudged
me out of one.

He threw down my tiny backpack after me with a row of Oreos wrapped neatly in the front pocket.

I didn’t thank him then because I still hated him for making me leave.

My body ached from the elephant standing on all my bones.
She was heavy but I didn’t want to be rude so I let her plant her home in me.

The first set of steps set off the fire alarm or the something alarm: Somebody save me or kill me please.

I kept moving, thinking of his wand or special drink. Whatever he used to work his magic on me to get me out.

I walked and walked with a slowness that might suggest a destination was out of the question.

Then I found my feet on the dirty sand filled with broken shells and cigarette butts.
The ball of sun told me where to put myself and I listened to him too.

I closed my eyes and sat there, staring directly into a hot face. I said to myself, Oh. So this is what he meant.

“A yellow ball of sun.” By Sasha at her desk

Sunday March 17, 2019
12:13pm
5 minutes
The Lovely Bones
Alice Sebold

A yellow ball of sun in her mouth
she shakes her curls and curls her toes
Electrified by the season she is all muscle
and heart all arms and goodness

An avocado pit in her hand she
holds on and holds on and releases
only when the time is right
New sprouts growing only stapled
to the possibility

She isn’t afraid of dabbling
or babbling and she isn’t self conscious
it’s a miracle in this time
miracle on the wingtip of crows

“a long, slow, squirmy moment for both of us.” by Julia in her bed

Friday March 15, 2019
12:48am
5 minutes
Orange is The New Black
Piper Kerman

It’s been better than usual. Better than the best peanut butter. Nut Buts, he called it. And who was I to complain to the universe for anything. I put on my acceptance hat and my acceptance capris and I walked along the beach saying thank you. And I find the sweetness in every word he makes up. Every language I learn because of him. There is play and youth and love in it. I say thank you thank you.

“with some bullshit approach” by Sasha on her couch

Wednesday March 13, 2019
5:47pm
5 minutes
Created By
Richard Christian Matheson

What scares us fascinates us
Oh such delicate creatures
The news is a fear machine

We glue our eyeballs to our
tiny screens and scroll
The extinctions
The exhaustions
The exhuming
The extreme

Risk and learn
Power off the empathy
because the heart can’t

bear all the hurting

Everything we do
impacts who we are
who our children are
who our parents are

We do everything in connection
Multiplicity
There isn’t organization in the chaos

Turn off the light when
you leave the room
Turn off the tap while brushing teeth
Say

Thank you

“He had to warm the guy up fast” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Tuesday March 12, 2019
8:03am
5 minutes
The Obsidian Chamber
Preston & Child

friend who is no longer friend
who the net couldn’t hold
who is gone now from this everyday
it’s not how i ever thought it would be
but i do know that love comes and goes
and open heartedness only gets us so far
always gets us to the truth

friend who is no longer friend
i hope that you are finally finding the peace
that you so desperately want
or wanted then i hope that
you are supported and enveloped in prayer
it’s okay that you broke things
forgiveness beads in my hand
counting to one hundred and eight
every morning and night

friend who is no longer friend
i don’t know if we’ll find our way back
to each other in this lifetime
but what i do know is that love is the god
i whisper to and who sings through
my voice moves through my body
water finding the same source
finding other water

“This song.” by Julia on her couch

Monday March 11, 2019
6:01pm
5 minutes
Freedomland
Richard Price

Might be the thing I tell you
Might be the first thing I say
Baby you’re not going to well up
Your eyes don’t work that way
Might be the thing you remember
Might be the last thing you hear
Darlin’ I can’t stop myself thinking
That I’ll be the one shedding these tears
Some of these days will be dipped in summer’s haze and we won’t be able to see the cracks
But when it gets cold and the winter wind blows, we’ll be left with all of the cruel facts
Might be the thing I tell you
Might be the first thing I say
I wish it were different but now I’m a lingerin’ even though I cannot stay
I’ll miss you the most in the mornin
Cause that’s where our bodies would meet
These blankets with only me will get so lonely without you beside me

“no matter how uncomfortable staying has become.” By Sasha in her bed

Sunday March 10, 2019
4:07pm
5 minutes
Devil With a Briefcase
Jan Janzen

You finally know what it is that you need to do
Now it’s just a matter of cracking open the outer shell
Scrambling yourself
Daring to be reborn

You sit with what it is that you need to do
for many long weeks
Sunday to Monday feeling like Winter to Fall
Time is a strange charade

A Sunday in March you dream about flying
your wings are the colour of the future
You can’t put your finger on the truth on your lips
but it’s there and it’s ready

You thought that staying with yourself
in all your stunning wretched you-ness
was just the practise of being alive
But it’s not and you’re not and now you’re

Pushing your fingers through the first bit of light

“I can feel it changing!” by Julia on the 19

Tuesday March 5, 2019
4:23pm
5 minutes
Death of a Salesman
Arthur Miller

It’s as if we never faced off that one night in June-you with your clever excuses and me with my tone trying to remain bigger than you.
I honestly thought you’d have more to say, the sand beading little reminders under your feet.
Where did you even go?
I swear I watched the you I knew get wiped away clean like two eyebrows drawn on, finally private enough to die.
Where did you even go?
I can’t speak for the me I was that night, edging closer to a storm, betraying my wisdom.
I hate seeming so small, fragile.
I went back in time, if you were wondering.
I landed on a year of my life that I am embarrassed about when looking at photographs.
Puffy bangs, sun-kissed cheeks,
all of the wrong teeth now missing

“Our self-centred fears whisper at us all day” by Julia on the 19

Monday March 4, 2019
5:42pm
5 minutes
Hallelujah Anyway
Anne Lamott

It’s one of those probing kind of voices
The one that gets in your head and lingers
Untucking sheets from bed frames
Lingering in the corner with the spiders too quick to spot
What if they’re looking at me
Laughing at me
Mad at me
Sorry for me
What if they’re all one team and I have no one left to pick to stand behind me
Pulse pulse throb throb
The echo alone enough to flip your eyelids inside out
No sleep for the talked about
No rest for the worrying
Everyone seems to have their own personal list, monogrammed into every towel meant for coming clean
The secrets etched in the base of our skulls tend to burrow into those silky memories
stripping them grey

“He thumped his chest” by Julia on her couch

Sunday March 3, 2019
8:01pm
5 minutes
Casual Vacancy
J.K Rowling

The colour of the room struck her as “underwhelming”
The glow of the yellow hall lights cast a sickly feeling throughout the apartment and she realized it was not this place alone
The whole street seemed to be cloaked in bad light and she wondered if it was her issue to overcome, or her city to leave
She tried to remember if this was ever a true problem back home
The walls were warmer, she concluded, more exposed brick and architectural appreciation
She couldn’t help but think that the people who put up with a light so unsettling were not to be trusted
She didn’t trust women with bare ankles during the winter months either
Both seemed to happen a lot here

“breaks the silence” by Julia on her couch

Friday March 1, 2019
11:06pm
5 minutes
The First Treatise
Yara Farran

Nothing puts a bug in the ear of silence more than talking about the future and being ready for what comes. You’re happy I’m happy.
You’re not thinking the same things as me. The full air is now like a blunt knife to the neck skin. It bruises before it breaks. It costs a different degree of commitment to finding out what happens. What comes.
I’m sorry you’re sorry. I liked the quiet then too. I didn’t know it was going to do so much changing.

“breaks the silence” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Friday March 1, 2019
11:02pm
5 minutes
The First Treatise
Yara Farran

Sat by his bedside
day after day
The Don River moving
outside the floor
to ceiling windows
winter holds on
like holds on
How can we let go?

You astound me with
the openness of your heart
how it can break and bear
the greatest weight at the
same time
How you are capable
with your head in the
jaws of the beast

You both really like
the doctor this month
He’s honest
He reads poetry
When Death Comes

“I almost loved you,” by Julia in her room

Thursday February 28, 2019
10:16pm
5 minutes
In Dublin
Maura Hanrahan

I almost loved you out of me but that’s not the way some beds work. There was no formula that I could plug my feelings into; no step by step guide to the other side of mercy.

Not when you can justify just about anything. Even the ones with a pulse far below the surface of being true. I almost loved you right back into you. The way I want you to get the bigger chicken breast; the sexiest garlic clove between the four of them.

I almost did that but I detoured at the stop where I was supposed to fill up on seeing myself fairly. I confused that for your lack.

But almost.

“which are past their upright peak” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Wednesday February 27, 2019
7:14am
5 minutes
Tulips for Barbara
Ann E. Michael

It’s okay if you want me to leave you be.
I know that it might feel like there’s nothing left to say.
I’m sorry I’m so sorry please forgive me please please I’m sorry.

These are the lines that I practice
piano scales a thousand moments a thousand days
You are held in my mind’s eye
the Wizard of my Oz

I turn forgiveness over in my mouth
a bitter lozenge
it sinks to the bottom of the well
it settles

I send you another letter
this time I say none of the lines
I’ve been practicing
I try something new

Yellow tulips on the table
past their upright peak
a few petals fallen
scattered ashes

“faster than all your sadness” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday February 26, 2019
8:38pm
5 minutes
What To Look For In A Horse
Brett Elizabeth Jenkins

It’s racing to the bottom of the well cause that’s the place you always get too scared to look.
Underneath every painted layer, a tiny garlic skin, or a forgotten birthday. Some of those choices live down there with the sadness.
You don’t go because you say it’s too crowded, likely story. There’s not room enough for all of us. Convenient, still, until the sadness finds out that no one’s keeping an eye on her down there so she starts to creep up.
She might burrow in the thick of a nightmare, the icy layer of morning frost.
I may have seen her once or twice at the party you thought you attended by yourself…

“faster than all your sadness” by Sasha at her desk

Tuesday February 26, 2019
9:13am
5 minutes
What To Look For In A Horse
Brett Elizabeth Jenkins

Underneath the layers
a stray fingernail clipping
a rose petal
a thank you card from a million years ago

Your sadness sits
next to the time your mother
forgot your birthday
on top of your first heartbreak
(you never knew it possible
to break without breaking
so fully)

Your sadness sings to you
in the hours when you lie awake
A song you know the tune of
but the words change

“Addiction” by Julia on the 4

Monday February 25, 2019
3:36pm
5 minutes
We Need to Talk
An interview with Anne Hallward

Everybody has either a thing or two or three that we can’t live without or a thing or two or three that kills us slowly
we can think all we want that it could be worse
and maybe that’s reason enough to stop trying to fix all our little holes
something like sugar isn’t that bad anyway, right
Unlesss the internal organs have asked for that to be reduced or changed or stopped already
we can say that we’re not addicted to each other in some way or another but that could be a convenient way to pretend we’re independent

“it has become a cliche” by Julia on her couch

Sunday February 24, 2019
9:47pm
5 minutes
A quote by Tim Flannery

economy of movement, of expression; Grace, they say plods along with hooves.
Winter pathways cloaked in secret rendezvous between birds and squirrel (or very very tiny wolf)sound the stadium silent. Hushes the crowd, stuns all us with efficiency; precision. We watch in awe not expecting to. The whole night is painted pink with hot after that. She tips and taps with the pads of her thumbs. Fingerprints proving the time she had left over to read, maybe, or plant a small garden.

“hitchhike into the wilderness” by julia on her couch

Saturday February 23, 2019
8:27pm
5 minutes
Trail’s End
Sy Safransky

I have hitchhiking thumbs and you’re busy singing that Beatles song
“If there’s anything that you want, if there’s anything I can do—“
And I want to tell you that all I want is for you to please shut the hell up
I’m trying to get us further down this nightmare highway but you never learned to read the room
I half expect us to get stuck cause of you putting out that vibe that is so different from mine
You are having fun, I guess I can’t begrudge you that
Maybe thanks for keeping it light
I admit the accent you do is pretty cute
One more
Hour won’t kill me
“With love from me, to you”

“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

“The silver-haired man’s name” by Julia in her bedroom.

Thursday February 21, 2019
10:48pm
5 minutes
Girl Underwater
Heather Sellers

remember the days your legs could keep up with your mind
remember your mind could outsmart your whole body
your body could surprise you
now you have to beg your thoughts to slow down and stop screaming
you’re waiting for an old fashioned kind of goodbye
begging your legs to take you off running
please, feet, carry me one more step, one more step

“but the monkey will go” by Julia in her room

Sunday February 17, 2019
9:59am
5 minutes
Nature Is Strong
Tony Hoagland

Say hi to my monkey
She comes around when things feel clunky
Begging me to return to the key
The constant truth inside of me
She’s asking for play and to leave behind structure
Cause forcing her to climb is like stealing her love for freedom and spontaneity
Wondering if she’ll ever have the chance to be left alone to be
Exactly who she sees in me
Say hi to monkey I’ve kept her caged I didn’t want her to choose cause I was too afraid
How will she make me look if I put her in charge?
Will my friends stick by me if my play bone grows large?
Will the ones that I choose, choose me back if I’m happy, no sadness here just one laughing monkey?
If when they asked how I am I said good when I was, instead of looking for reasons why things aren’t enough, could I let myself smile even when I think I could do more? Isn’t that the key to this self-locked door?
Say hi to my monkey cause I’m bringing her along, sometimes she makes me dance, or break out in song
She’s the younger self I’ve been trying to pin
Say hi to my monkey, now I’m letting her in.

“It’s comfy and cozy.” By Julia in her bed

10:43pm
Wednesday February 13, 2019
from a text

Salesman sells the bed
well says that’s where it’s
comfy cozy and did you see?
It’s big enough for three..

We say we ain’t looking for a bed that fits more
than two,
just us we and our four feet
that’s what we like to do

salesman sells the bed by sayin’ you’ll regret it if you don’t try
So we go home right away
and try to conceive
that night

We were happy with our elbows
meetin’ in the middle space
our noses in each other’s mouths was our funny
little place

But salesman’ got us thinkin’ when he was sellin’ us that bed
That we could have a spot for two or one for three instead

“heart wrenching soaring n magical place.” By Julia on the 4

Monday February 11, 2019
6:04pm
5 minutes
Kits
Bill Bissett

Left my heart on the beach with the tide out

Sun dippin’ low givin’ glow to all the good neighbours

Those clouds, man, did they drink

I drank too like it might be my last sip and I swirled it there in my mouth, painting my tongue a kind of magic

Bear’s hands were holding the cups and I have the good eye so I took all the photos, freezin’ my hand skin as offerin’, trade, holy sacrifice

And then the red x pinged off the horizon and splashed us both diagonal, split us both in two cause then more of us could witness

Bear’s mug clanked my mug and we two stepped with the teasing foam as it came knocking on our boots, kissing at our toes

“Speaking of hosting!” By Julia on her couch

Friday February 8, 2019
8:47pm
5 minutes
from a Wordplay call out

In the middle of the night it starts to rain. We can hear it pitter patter on the rooftop. You had asked for that. For more rain. To hear it tapping off the wood of the cottage like that makes us both better. This is a quieter night than some of the others. It is easy to fall back to sleep and dream. I wanted it too: more rain; more reminders of living.

“Speaking of hosting!” By Sasha in her bed

Friday February 8, 2019
8:46pm
5 minutes
from a Wordplay call out

I seem to be made more
of water than of bones
sinew muscle guts
I seem to be made of
salt water the amount
I am overflowing

My eyes are changing
colour with this
bursting with this
breaking with this
heavy heavy
Will you help me
to carry this weight?

You say that you
can’t bear the water
the sound as you fall asleep
that it’s been too many
nights in a row of this
filling filling flowing filling

I am helpless in the hands
of the drops falling down
filling falling flowing
it’s the law of this week
this week only I say
this week it’s like this

“such a confusing tableau.” by Julia at Ocean Village

Tuesday February 5, 2019
11:08am
5 minutes
How To Change Your Mind
Michael Pollan
The trees are wind-blown sideways, their top leaves all leaning to the left.
In this scene they look like they are suspended in movement, choreographed effortlessly by the universe and all its majestic artistry. The tableau is alive and I am alive for looking at it. I want to know who I am to thank for these gradient skies and the sunrise and the reflection of my heart so clear on the morning beach.
I am not confused by nature’s vision.  I soak it all up and dance along the shoreline with a galumph I haven’t known since childhood’s end.
These trees are reaching over their own bodies in a pose, held with grace, we stand moved.
The hurry in my boots has left for the time being. Stillness has sunk itself deep into my toes where the cold sat earlier, nipping at my thin skin. Here, I can stand here, watching the trees live on in the picture of their own making.
We watch like a monkey might leap out from this tight-lipped secret. Or a rainbow.

“I just want a little privacy is all.” By Julia at Ocean Village

Sunday February 3, 2019
6:40pm
5 minutes
The Lovely Bones
Alice Sebold

You invite me to the pool but I think I should be alone now to sink in to myself. I cannot endure other people.

Tonight, however, my love, I have already learned the gift of endurance from you. Here is a chance to meet your appropriate edge, you said without saying. Did you know, Love, that it is further outside yourself than you once believed?
I am being given a choice in this pure calm before the storm: the heavens open and waiting for me to step into the light…
As the wind first hits, we are in a kind of gentle magic. The beach is long and inviting and so we step further and further away.
Soon it is beyond white. The sky seems to hold all of this force in the palm of things. Against this colour of night, the locusts of snow overhead rage through us and our simple jeans.
You stand behind me creating a home; a vortex around my humble body in the face of something so big.

“unapologetic about her love of narcotics.” By Julia at Ocean Village

Friday February 1, 2019
8:41pm
5 minutes
Orange Is The New Black
Piper Kerman

I met her the night we dropped MDMA and spoke with sweat and sweet and true and good
I was grateful for the peaks of love that kiss sunlight
So high the only thing we could do was see each other

The time before that we found cocaine on the bump of her key, the public bathrooms at every place we ended up: the bar, the house party, the tennis court, after moving a rustic ladder from the back of my apartment to her’s—wearing heels and dressed ready
We felt like we were made of arms

The same two of us, and deeper,
found a butterfly sanctuary on the day we were decided on being real joy

“never showed me where the wreck lay.” By Julia on the 99

Thursday January 31, 2019
10:09pm
5 minutes
Foe
J.M. Coetzee

Each one pointed to a different place of hurt
Here, the wreckage of the heart,
the spot where the rib cage was invaded, break and entering
Here, the spasm of the lower back,
deep breath a kind of torture
Acquitted somehow of all charges

I wanted to ask-Did I do this to you?
Was it by my hand you know this?

I should have asked where else it throbbed, reminded you of your punishable naked
unwalled

“I’ve got questions.” By Sasha in her bed

Tuesday January 29, 2019
10:36pm
5 minutes
From a text

I’ve got questions and most of them
have to do with how many times this
will break my heart

Don’t mean to lean heavy on a tired
metaphor we are all tired aren’t we
isn’t that what everyone says when
asked how they are
Tired?

Keep circling back to this again
and again the monotony but also the
surprise every time
and the break is still a break
is still a break

How many times can the same thing
hurt in new ways but not different ways
one of those albums where all the songs
sound like a variation on the single
on the title track

My title track is this tonight
and the other nights that have ended
as this one will

“I’ve got questions.” By Julia on her couch

Tuesday January 29, 2019
10:06pm
5 minutes
From a text

I wonder a lot
about the way you sway
the way you say my name
the way you drink champagne
You can say so much with such little pieces of you
I could have asked a better one than Why
It seems we’ve all become experts at that one
How is a good one
When is another
You’re not bigger than the ocean
but you act like it
I have questions about that
About the hours you keep
the thoughts you believe
the stories you yell
Bigger than the ocean
While still
so much smaller than this

“The road ends at a washout” by Julia on her couch

Sunday January 27, 2019
11:13pm
5 minutes
Nomads
Poe Ballentine

I think all good things must come to an end sooner than we’re ever ready for them.
Why would we want the good things to end?
It’s hard enough getting the good things to start.

We were never really friends although I believed us to be.
I thought you liked me and I liked you in the same way and we were…good for each other.
It only took a thousand messages left without reply for me to figure it out.
You’re the kind of person who thinks offering yourself is all you need to do.
You’re the kind of person who thinks I would be lucky to receive your invitation to the land of zero follow through.
There can only be room for certain friendships now,
not whatever it is we’re doing.
We don’t need anything from each other and we never did.
I thought I did but then I got to know you and realized the
only thing I need from you is for you to stop pretending like
any of your empty promises mean something.
I won’t be around for that kind of shit anymore.
The next time I might not be as kind about the whole thing.
Maybe if you were as honest with me as I am with you we could save a whole lot of energy.

“I was acting like a” by Julia on her couch

Saturday January 26, 2019
9:42pm
5 minutes
The Only One She Told
J.E. McCafferty

Liar liar pants on fire
Said last time I thrived on dire
Fought my battles walked the wire
Fakery began to tire
All those people believing deep
held me up as the grim reaper
Wished I could have climbed much steeper
But I was a dream-catch eater
Held the wish to drown the mole
We couldn’t take any souls
I swear we tried, we did not know
Then god opened mouth and ripped me whole

“I imagine him alive.” By Julia in her bed

Monday January 21, 2019
9:28pm
5 minutes
Stories We Keep To Ourselves
Bill Glose

I imagine him alive with dark hair covering his tiny little head
He has a perfect face
Maybe a few years from now he’ll need glasses just like you
His dark hair transforms into light hair later like mine does in the sun
You are holding him and cooing in his face and everything is sweet now
I keep him alive by not leaving him
That is my only job
I picture him loving me before he leaves home
Some of them only realize how much has been done for them after they build their bed behind walls that no one can wonder against
He is kind to insects and birds
He is funny because of you and only you
From me he learns how to hum
From me he learns how to weep
From me he learns how to stare into the nothingness past the room and bright noise
You smile extra hard these days

“I imagine him alive.” By Sasha at her desk

Monday January 21, 2019
1:55pm
5 minutes
Stories We Keep To Ourselves
Bill Glose

He’s running along the beach
He doesn’t leave footprints in the sand
He floats above like the sand flies
Leaving no trace
Making no impression

I’m watching him from a nearby
piece of driftwood
Back and forth he goes
One end becoming the other
Horizon becoming sky

He doesn’t see me there
Lost in the movement of his muscles
Found in the meditation of waves
Lost in the between-world wonder
Found in the bits of seaweed and shell

I call out to him
He doesn’t hear me
The ocean thundering before us
Dusk wraps around our shoulders
Takes us back to the center
Takes us back in time

“he fell like the rain,” by Julia at the Rivendell Cottage

Friday January 18, 2019
11:22pm
5 minutes
In The Beautiful Rain
Tony Hoagland

Her eyelids sank, heavy with dust
collected in the creases
So
many
damn
intricate
feelings
Sleep stretched out like a cat before her and she put her hand out to scratch under its chin
The night and all its bigger shadows
loomed in and around, sort of stalking
Her mouth a steady waterfall pointing ground-ward
He, on the other hand warmed up another cup of tea in the microwave
Flipped the pages of his book like punishment
Pushed the bed so far away
it
turned
into
the
couch

“he fell like the rain,” by Sasha in the bath

Friday January 18, 2019
9:04pm
5 minutes
In The Beautiful Rain
Tony Hoagland

She lifted her hand to her face
her hand the mirror that she trusted more
her face the face that she’d always known
She traced her nostrils and opened her mouth

He fell like the rain in the morning
and at night he gathered the fire to
close his eyes and trust the dark
Her sleep breath lifting him away

The laundry is on the couch and
needs to be folded
socks and T-shirts mixing cake
mixing bodies and story and dust

Someone will do it tomorrow
One of them whoever has time
and is feeling generous to the other
or to themselves

The recycling needs to be sorted
and taken out to the bins in the alleyway
where men with grocery carts pick through
all the after-thoughts all the forgetting

Hoping for a treasure

“like food processors” by Julia on her couch

Wednesday January 16, 2019
8:21pm
5 minutes
On Becoming A Cat
Emily Mitchell

In the middle of the night I hear you whispering sweet words into the pillow
They’re for me
I kiss you back to sleep
I stay awake wondering about the light dancing across the ceiling
I was tired before this and
now maybe it’s denial
The past few days have felt impossible
Each of our hollow seems to be bouncing off every surface in sight and you might not be rubber but I’m definitely glue
I wonder at the dancing light, the collective sadness seaping into my skin, the way waking up never arrives without a headache anymore

“We cross dirt roads” by Julia on the 4

Monday January 14, 2019
4:29pm
5 minutes
A Poem for Barack Obama’s Presidential Inauguration
Elizabeth Alexander

Woman beside me: red nails that match her red boots. Noticed a red scarf and sweater too. All red. All showing.
Man beside her: grey coat, grey slacks, grey beard. He’s looking at her.
She’s provbaly reading this.
It was so foggy today the sun turned into a ball of white, outlined as if with crayon. You can drift into road on days like this. You can find yourself dissappearing without trying.
I can’t say I’m doing my best to be seen.
I think everyone in my life is sad right now and only some of them know to include me in that.

“endure burning” by Julia on the 84

Sunday January 13, 2019
5:55pm
5 minutes
A quote by Viktor Frankl

Yesterday my hair caught on fire in front of all the people I didn’t know. I am grateful. Everytime I let a part of me burn I watch myself rise from the ashes and grow longer in the backbone. That, and it’s nice to be reminded that I’m always saved in the 11th hour. My intuition pounds on the door of me and it sometimes takes going up in flames to answer the call.
How can I do more work around hearing the rap rap rap before I turn into smoke? After all, I was right about you, wasn’t I? I knew there was something off about you the first time I saw you blink like that. I hope you never try your hand at poker. Or motherhood.

“endure burning” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Sunday January 13, 2019
5:42pm
5 minutes
A quote by Viktor Frankl

I wonder what you’ve told them about me
about how I walk on my tip toes in the morning
not to wake you
about how I braid the tassels on my red scarf
I wonder what you’ve told them about my burning
my breaking my owning my betrayal
I wonder if they know what my face looks like
when I’m sleeping
The wild wild west they say
The Wild West
A story that we all know the ending to
My devotion will break me
I’m still alive
I’m still here
I’m still

I wonder what you’ve told them about me
and the sound of my whistle my voice when I’m singing
Torn up inside the will to survive the will to
Will I ever be able to forge through winter
Will I ever be able to stop laughing

“grateful to be where we are now.” By Julia on her couch

Friday January 11, 2019
12:06am
From a Christmas card

A garden preened to the high heavens mocks my morning walk to the compost heap left bubbling
I hate these neighbours and their tireless knees
How some people sit like that I will never understand
My mother didn’t meet her green thumb until her 60s so maybe there’s still time for me. Not sure why my father didn’t force me into the earth when I was young and curious. Some life skills I fear I may never own
My garden wouldn’t make sense anyway-a clump of rosemary, a hill of daisies
I have never been willing to look so far ahead into a year
It’s the same pill I swallow when packing my things even if only for the night

“skin hanging from a chicken soup bone.” by Julia desk

Wednesday January 9, 2019
8:51pm
5 minutes
Tuesdays With Morrie
Mitch Albom

If ever you should leave me, leave a note in your hand
by the bedside where you slept with your mouth open and
if ever you should leave me, do not go before you say
what goes in your mother’s bone broth soup in case I get sick one day
Because without you I don’t know if I’ll be able to
go on in my usual cadence, whistling simply will not do
I will be sad and lonely, and the house will be so quiet
your laughter will not fill it, how I wish I’d learned to file it
If ever you should leave me, don’t forget to mention Sweet,
where all the toilet paper is in case there is none left by the seat
I will miss your generosity, and where you stored the sieve,
I’ll be so lost without you, I won’t know how I will live

“skin hanging from a chicken soup bone.” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Wednesday January 9, 2019
4:51pm
5 minutes
Tuesdays With Morrie
Mitch Albom

I make chicken soup with the bones of the seasons before
Frozen in Ziploc bag
Stacked with
forgotten bananas
pumpkin seeds
pine nuts
containers of squash soup

I make soup for the parents of new babies
and bodies that are tired and grieving
Bodies that are growing
Bodies that are strong
I make soup for my own lonely heart
and the lonely hearts peppered here and away

There’s been a lot of soup this winter
and pretending that candles are wood stoves
There’s been a lot

“A master-beggar art thou.” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday January 8, 2019
10:13pm
5 minutes
Kim
Rudyard Kipling

I don’t want your money but if you send a cheque I’ll cash it
I don’t want your pity but if attention’s coming I’ll stash it
So many times I’ve said I wouldn’t stoop so low
but every day is turning me into a master at limbo
surprise yourself with pleasantries or avoidance or a feeling
never say never cause the holy spirit’s teething
wants a bite of my earthly flesh and all the lies I let in
this is how you get on your knees and pray for all the sinning
I don’t want your money but I’ll take it if it’s there
cause I don’t like to waste things like guilty almost care
I’d rather have your praise but I guess beggars can’t be choosers
I used to crave the fame when I was caught up with the losers
Now I don’t know where I am supposed to be going
Put the money in the hat and hope it don’t start snowing

“There is no rule that is true under the circumstances” by Julia at her desk

Sunday January 6, 2019
8:40pm
5 minutes
Synchronicity
C.G. Jung

We have to shift every time
it is not something we’ve done once
and always know now
We are reminding each other often
Today there were tears and maybe
that’s the only thing we can
expect after all these days

Walking along the beach today
you say that no matter what
you think it’s going to be in
your head, the only certainty
you can rely on, is that it won’t

I believe people can change and
retract their previous opinions
That’s what learning is all about
Knowing a thing you didn’t know
before and seeing through a different
perspective

We have to shift every time
We know nothing will be as
we think it will even if we want
it to be it with all of our heart’s
deep and steady longing

I suppose we have to get good at
believing in the great presence
of love unconditional
When it is there it is always there
and there is no need to question it

Walking along the beach today I do
not even think to question it
I have it in my skin
and I know it

“He was young and handsome” by Sasha on her couch

Saturday January 5, 2019
9:02am
5 minutes
The Elephant Vanishes
Haruki Murakami

It’s your birthday today
You’re young and handsome
bird-like and dying
empty and full
at the same time
“This too”
I whisper
“This too”
I wail

I saw the most wondrous thing
was there for the birth
of a star child on the first
day of the new year
this year of mystery
babies
loss
learning
breath

I don’t know if I’ll
see you again in the flesh
in the bone
bird-body
sun-shower

It’s your birthday today
the same week cancer took
both A. and D.
the same week a star child
was born
the same week
the same life
a birthday
a deathday
a new day
a new day

“I can be courageous enough to feel” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday January 1, 2019
8:14pm
5 minutes
Comfortable With Uncertainty
Pema Chödrön

The sorrow I’ve been pushing into the deep hole of me has started to itch
It rubs up against the sides of its cage and begs for fresh water
Don’t you know you cannot burry sadness alive?
The clock on the wall clicks more than ticks and I think everything around me is breaking
At dinner the light is soft and golden and everyone is in a perfect mood but me
The air in my lungs escapes before I know what I am saying and the room tunnels into the shape of my hurt
All those years of doing my best and being told to go back to the old me-the one who is better understood by shopkeepers and mothers and fathers and groups of afraid
I feel this pit beginning to take root and I am not sure what I’ll be if I pluck it from the dark mud where it’s been lost
How easy to say Fine instead of Not Fine
How easy to say sorry after the garden has been torn up
I am courageous enough to feel all this and all this that cannot be named

“So the Search was begun” by Julia at Pearson Airport

Monday December 31, 2018
8:08am
5 minutes
The Tao Of Pooh
Benjamin Hoff

In the middle of the night I heard a whisper in the sound of my own voice coming from inside my head. It was me, or I believed it to be. I was telling me to breathe and focus and stop focusing and see the white wall and Dear Lord Please, Please. I was telling me to find peace in the stillness. A little voice asked if it was okay if I watched a movie instead. I said yes to myself and began to play a moving picture show of all my choices and all the bread I got to eat. The lobster. The Italian sausage. The night my father and I took a deep look. The movie played and I rewatched it again and again. I told me I could watch it in the morning once I had woken up but the me laying didn’t feel like the me saying was being true. The search had begun for what was. For what was true. Why would inside voice me try to trick outside laying me? What is inside voice me trying to get me to notice or understand or remember forever and ever amen.

“I never tire of saying that” by Julia on the Greyhound

Saturday December 29, 2018
5:20pm
5 minutes
Man’s Search For Meaning
Viktor E. Frankl

I tire of saying certain words
Yes
Sorry
Unfortunately
I love you
It’s not on purpose but I know what I hate and I say it now to be clear and not cutting
But I never tire of saying what is bigger than me and truer than you
I say it with the inside of my cheek and the silk of my skin
I say it with the moon bearing witness
with the oven mitts on
with the bathroom door open
I want this
I don’t want this
I tire because the struggle of wanting and not wanting is one of deep diving
There is no around it
Above it
Under it
To travel down you have to go through it
And deeper still
The pain is exhaustible and yet there is no shortcut
No other way

“I kissed the person next to me” by Julia at G and C’s

Friday December 28, 2018
11:49pm
5 minutes
Contemplation
Franz Kafka


I kissed the person next to me and he fell asleep with the tip of my nose in his mouth
The first time it was funny
The second time we wondered how we ever managed to fall asleep any other way
I dreamt about stealing feathers and magnets from his rich friend
I ached to be as close as possible
He asked if we could sit in our comfortable silence and I agreed
Lately I have been running around the stock in my head and can’t seem to find anything to say anyway
The long laying and breathing is kind of new to us
We usually put on a show to give our bodies permission to entangle
I don’t know what to do in some moments and that is when I shall find his lips instead of searching for answers
From now on I will fill all the unknowing with kisses

“The only time this does not happen” by Julia at Amanda’s

Thursday December 27, 2018
1:26am
5 minutes
The Undiscovered Self
C.G. Jung

It is dark out
still morning
still raining
You’ll have to leave soon
I could remain here
I hate leaving the bed before you
Last night you tossed in your sleep
Back and forth, flip the pillow
I know it was probably too hot
The window is broken
I told you that before we turned off the light
You didn’t believe me
I can understand your perspective
It hasn’t been dry out for a while
I don’t remember how long, maybe you do
You always remember the things I don’t
That’s very convenient, by the way
You could be re-writing our
history and I wouldn’t even know it

“perhaps he really knew nothing” by Julia at Amanda’s

Tuesday December 25, 2018
9:30pm
5 minutes
The Trial
Franz Kafka

The night before is a blur now,
book-ended by so many sweet sounds
He tells me he admires me
Complex, he says, And damn good at it
I want to thank him for saying that
For putting words to that level of seeing me
I felt sorry the whole damn day
My eyelashes stung like Angel wings clipped at the tip
I can be so difficult to love when I am this repetitive
This growth of heart choosing the only way it knows how
I could say every year gets better
I could make sure I write that down
and read it back one night after tea

“day after day we worked” by Julia in Baden

Monday December 24, 2018
7:19pm
5 minutes
The Swiss Family Robinson
J.D. Wyss

We bathed in the sun of the afternoon
calling licorice to our tongues
And on the heels of I’ll-see-you-soon,
we dreamt of tomorrow’s hunt
The sky opened up and licked us both-quiet and wet serene with it
We raced through time loops with a quake in our jump, a hop in our stretch
The only thing stopping us from hitting high was the high we felt from feeling it
Those golden shades that painted the night, that painted your skin, we swore by them
as cures to the ails inside of us that we did not stop long enough to notice
I was being reversed by timelessness
And you were alongside the great ravine crossing
My bravest day’s obsession
would lift the platform up a level
We threw our heads back
and laughed

“Till the only word your mouth remembers” by Julia at her parents’ table

Sunday December 23, 2018
11:52am
5 minutes
Milk and Honey
Rupi Kaur

my mouth knows how to repeat the same thing over and over until it loses meaning
until it turns into dust

my mouth knows how to curse the ones I love the most because their mouths say what my mouth could

my mouth eats itself more than it doesn’t
twisting the almost rebellion into quiet
cheek sores, taking up space

my mouth hums the tune of the earth that keeps me grounded when the noise is trying to lift me out of my skin

my mouth coos the sweet-lipped words of admiration and gratitude with ease and with abundance

my mouth remembers being shut violently and told that this is not violence but love and history and justified

my mouth knows a lie like a pang in the gums, a bell dinging endlessly under the tongue

“Till the only word your mouth remembers” by Sasha in Mississauga

Sunday December 23, 2018
11:51am
5 minutes
Milk and Honey
Rupi Kaur

Kiss me until the only word your mouth knows is
mine beloved make true. Love me until we are divine
light swirling towards eternity
time no longer a barrier time now
a surrender a hope. Remember when we used to know
each other less fully. That’s funny to think about.

Morning fades to afternoon and I
clench my jaw sprawled on the floor
of your childhood bedroom the kid wallpaper
still there the art you made
before I knew you from anyone.

My nostalgia makes me drunk
in a way vodka never did in a way
chocolate never does in a way that only
these darkest days turning lighter do
here and here hand and heart
and belly swelling snow.

“it makes us feel insecure” by Julia in her childhood room

Saturday December 22, 2018
1:11am
5 minutes
The Book
Alan Watts

The nothing howls
like a deep seeded pit
writhing in the grass,
burying itself free
from the light touching
The pain lives not in the
not knowing but in
the inventing of what the
unknown might be-
could be,
never ever will be
I can hear it too if
I listen
I can see the blues and pinks jumping off its bones and into the night
streaking the silence with
premature dread
What if we never learn to
see the unseen as a gift?
What if the ache builds a
house on its broken back and
boards all the whispered wondering there?

“Whose language would he speak?” by Julia on Amanda’s couch

Friday December 21, 2018
6:35pm
5 minutes
Siddhartha
Herman Hesse

when he tries to tell you he doesn’t want you,
maybe that’s his soul speaking about another
place that feels empty
You look like the empty because you are the closest thing to him
You and him standing in the kitchen, throwing words at available skin
But maybe he’s right
Maybe you’re the empty vase
the empty promise
the seat up on a high horse
that you don’t know how to
ride, much less get down from
He might be missing pieces but you are missing parts too:
backbone
truth tongue
tact
a pulse

“Whose language would he speak?” By Sasha at Ideal Coffee

Friday December 21, 2018
1:35pm
5 minutes
Siddhartha
Herman Hesse

You’re learning Spanish
You fell in love with the
language on our honeymoon
and now you’re teaching

yourself by an app
usually at the end of the day
in our bed you repeat

Lo siento
Pequeño
Gato

You’re good with languages
in a way I’m not and I think
about how you’ll help our
daughter with her French homework

I’ll look over and remember
counting to twenty
conjugations
shame
quizzes

I was good at a lot of things
but this wasn’t one of them

“none of which are taken very seriously.” By Sasha on the plane

Tuesday December 18, 2018
8:14pm
5 minutes
From an email

In the dark of the season
Longest day approaching
Train in the distance
Barrelling with purpose
Barrelling with direction
There is no place else to go
But inwards

You say that you want to take long baths
Play the piano
Listen to CBC radio
Eat clementines

Of course you do
Of course

Let go of the past
The winter says
Biting my earlobes
And reaching below the ice
Let go of what is no longer
All we have is now

“all past, present or future actions” By Sasha in the Kiva

Wednesday December 19, 2018
11:33pm
5 minutes
From an application form

It’s hard to speak when the overcoming comes
When it’s all heart beat and throat tight and
Here we go again
Past and present and future whirlpooling
Whipperwhiling scumbagging scumbugging

You tell me that you see how I’m growing
How I’m showing the centre that you know
That you watch when I’m dreaming
Projections of horses stampedeing across
The prairie of my forehead

It’s good to let go and move the old
Ice from the freezer chest
It’s good to release the pigeons from
The rusty roof

“face/integrate/deal with.” By Julia in her bed

Sunday December 16, 2018
11:00pm
5 minutes
from a text

1) face the fear of getting it wrong
2)integrate bodily functions as warning signs: why am I crying? What is my stomach trying to tell me? Write, woman. Run.
3) deal with the loud emotions instead of
ignore or
turn down or
stave off or
fight back or
feel weak because of
4) give an open field for playtime and general exuberance, for loud, lift, freedom
5) treat the wound with tough love enough to disinfect it first; smothering it with a bandaid will stop the blood but not the bad attitude

“Super-trendy” by Julia on her couch

Saturday December 15, 2019
5:05 pm
5 minutes
From the Gift Guide in Toronto Life

all the good purses are in the closet, top shelf.
haven’t wanted to wreck them or my shoulder. Alignment guy says I’m out of alignment: one arm weighed down far more than the other, hanging there like a bag of grapes.
I do not want to shrivel up before my time.
I have so much reaching still to do. The best part about it is out of sight out of mind. I am not who I was when I can’t see anything to remind me. I am me now, staring desperately into the reflections of convenience: The kettle, the tea cup filled, the tv turned off watching me instead.

“somehow you are sacred,” by Julia on the 84

Wednesday December 12, 2018
3:54pm
5 minutes
The Third Treatise
Yara Farran

As I stand here mighty, bigger than you,
I feel the earth holding you up. When the sight of me existing without force
the way you sometimes don’t
makes you stop in your tracks, I see you then, and know you are good. This rain has marked its territory on my skin. I have married and left it now too many times to count. This is how I know about growing. About staying. About you.
Somehow, it is true, you are sacred even if you do not know the meaning of the word. And I know what it’s like to wait for my time to shoot upward; to shed my old season; to take the place of my mother.

“buttered side up” by Julia in her room

Monday December 10, 2018
10:28pm
5 minutes
For Murphy
Jade Riordan

there’s a biscuit in our bed
I brought it in here
I’m the culprit sue me sorry
you’re the one who
buttered it
toasted it first then buttered it
you knew exactly what you were doing
And now I’m to blame for bed-crumbs and for low times
and for weakness
I’m the one we always hang the bad ideas on
but I never used to eat in bed until I met you and
I don’t remember now if it was to forget you or bring you closer to me
you’re the first guy who got me higher than this
I wanted more from you and you were smoking then
I didn’t think you
anything but cool
the first guy who got me high

“buttered side up” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Monday December 10, 2018
8:35am
5 minutes
For Murphy
Jade Riordan

Toast always falls butter side down
the good stuff with the flaky salt
that you really shouldn’t have bought
but did because you only live once
and it’s been a hard few months

Now you’re licking butter off the linoleum
and feeling sorry for yourself

You’re very good at feeling sorry for yourself
So good in fact that you wonder about listing it
as a special skill on your resume
alongside

Spanish speaker
Ballroom dancing
Susceptible to cold feet

You deserved that butter just as you deserve
to be squatting in the kitchen
robe coming undone
a smile spreading across your face

“I wonder if it’s the time of night” by Julia on her couch

Sunday December 9, 2018
7:15pm
5 minutes
Tulips for Barbara
Ann E. Michael

There’s this feeling in the air that something’s wrong with me. On the inside, there used to be more of a rumble. Now things are quiet and I’m not sure if they’re trying to be or if they’ve moved on from there. Empty core place? Void where instinct used to live?
Maybe it’s the time of night. The way the light hits the room. The way the absence of sound weighs heavy. I caught myself in the mirror during a deep furrow. It looked like it could have been there forever. The absence of inner voice feels like eyebrows meeting in the middle of my face under someone else’s circumstance. There’s a crunching. A knot.

“your life depends upon lying close” by Julia in her kitchen

Wednesday, December 5, 2018
7:56pm
5 minutes
Zero Meridian
Marie Silkeberg

The morning is the time you roll into me and whisper sweet affirmations in my ear. They’re so sweet it’s the only thing keeping me from slapping you for waking me up before my alarm. And yet I love it. I love those little groans or little sighs. The hot air on my neck. The warmth from your skin. The perfect placement of our knees.
I do not whisper affirmations to you but I’m busy remembering my dreams. Poems I wrote in my sleep or lines that snuck up on me in the quiet. I am hoping they are part of me by now but by now you are part of me. I think I’ve learned that before.
We don’t have to prove our love in these moments. The bed is love and we are love and the heat is love. I am convinced that in the oven we share, baking cookies of history and comfort and light (using terrible metaphors for what it is we’re doing), nothing more needs to happen.

“a conversation unfolds” by Julia on the 4

Sunday, December 2, 2018
4:34pm
5 minutes
Conversation Across Languages
Derick Mattern

We’re talking a lot
It’s good
I’m grateful
You’re sad
The space between us
is nothing and
everything
We have always
operated under
extreme circumstance
Big or invisible
Madness or dark
You’ve asked the
hard questions
and I wonder if
I have lied in answering
I promised you I’d
be honest but nothing
is everything and
it can get a little
confusing
The conversation
is ongoing and some
days the words do
all the talking and
some days the belly-
The snail inside the
belly unwinding and
folding back in on
itself

“To cling to water?” By Julia at M’s table

Saturday, December 1, 2018
9:17pm
5 minutes
Is It Possible to Love a Ghost?
Erin Kang

Had to get my
ass down to the
water yesterday
I took you with
me and didn’t
have to ask
where we were
Country wide
You knew
You always do
And that is the
beacon above
it all and under
I had been
hearing people
talk about the
healing properties
of the ocean
but you have to
bring yourself
to the waves
You have to
Face the ripples
and reflection
Be ready to
find yourself
echoing

In my last city
I did not have
the option
in my backyard
the way I do here
I could have
swallowed all the
right pills and
travelled to the
island once every
Three hundred
and sixty-five
days