“silence flourishes sea-green.” By Sasha at her desk

Thursday April 18, 2019
3:33pm
5 minutes
Overdose
Seamus Dune

In the stillness
of the early morning hours
silent and ripe

This is the first time
in my life that
I’ve had this kind of
t
i
m
e
to rest and
be and
centre and
prepare
and rest

and meet
whatever guests
arrive at the door

“Every morning a new arrival”
Rumi says and it’s true
now more than ever before
it’s true

In the sea-green quiet
of three in the morning
I touch ecstasy in the
low down hiccups between
my hipbones
I touch fatigue in the
never-quite comfortable
I touch anger that my
mother won’t get watch
her love hold our girl
I touch the petty jealousy
that lives in clenched jaw
that smacks me around
when I’m least expecting

“Why are you still here?”

“Roads here are nuts.” By Sasha at her desk

Thursday March 7, 2019
5:40pm
5 minutes
From a text message

The cedars are telling me how
Step slow
Listen
Trust the roots

Moss on the undergrowth
Step slow
Eyelashes wet from dawn
Quiet like the beginning
and the end

In through the nose
and out through the mouth
Faith in the one foot
in front of the other

Surrender in the new
in the trusting
in the perfect
curve of the reach
of the fern

Rumi writes of the field
and it’s where I’m
going

I’ll meet you there

“this is how it sometimes is at God’s table” by Julia at the Fringe Creation Lab


Sunday October 20, 2013 at the these five minutes: writer’s workout at the Fringe Creation Lab
1:27pm
5 minutes
The Essential Rumi
Ed. Coleman Barks


This is how it sometimes is,
you either love it or hate it, they call it Show Biz
With a hand on your hip you pose,
you say yes to every man when he proposes
“Marry me!” you shout and you let it all out
cause someone nearby is watching the lie,
and you are an actress with clout
But who do you perform for?
The God you named is a sleeping bore
he watches with his belly full
and packed from stuffing in more and more
his long beard white is braided into a promise–
he tells the angels to tape you so he won’t ever miss
the subtleties of you on your knees
and begging for an audience
that finally appeases you
Oh and his table filled with chicken and gin,
he tunes in to review your sins and you
put them in a jar marked ART-
say the people who watch you have you stuck in their hearts

“hopeful of making amends” by Sasha at Layah & Oliver’s farm


Friday, September 20, 2013
4:31pm
5 minutes
Fresh Meat 2013 program

Dear Wilson,
Writing you makes me think about that Leonard Cohen song that you love. Famous Blue Raincoat. It’s close to four in the morning, but it’s the end of September, not December. It’s much cooler now than when you were here. Autumn has come in like that thug we knew back in Cabbagetown. He was stealthy. Leonard just turned seventy-nine. Did you know that? I saw it on Twitter. Rebecca told me that I really ought to have an account, for work and whatnot. I don’t really understand it. The upside is knowing more useless things about people who I care nothing about. Or is that the downside? You tell me. Wilson, I’m hopeful that you and Rebecca will make amends, that this too shall pass. I know that my seeds of wisdom always irritated you, but I can’t help myself. I’ve enclosed a book that I just finished and thought you might enjoy. Have you heard of Rumi? He was a Sufi mystic. A visionary. I read him on the toilet and before bed. Those sacred times. Thinking of you frequently. Wondering how you are. Rebecca is worried. She speaks of you constantly.