“I almost loved you,” by Sasha in her bed

Thursday February 28, 2019
5 minutes
In Dublin
Maura Hanrahan

I almost loved you but you didn’t make the cut. My love is a gold medal and sometimes you got silver, but not gold. Nope, not gold. There was a wedge between the possible and the real and I fantasized about the possible but the real left bite marks and crumbs on the counter. The real left a trail of mouse shit. Crumbs. Mouse shit. I did almost love you though, and that’s an accomplishment. I hope you hold that close. When you’re gazing into the bottom of the latest bottle, when you’re gazing across the body of the latest woman, I hope you hold that fact close.

“the tallest trees send down roots” by Sasha on her couch

Sunday, September 6, 2015
5 minutes
The Soul’s Code
James Hillman

Silver never explains how he got his nickname. I learn his real name after crashing on his couch for three months. He’s finally left the apartment to go and look for a job and I rifle around looking for evidence of who he really is. When I ask him where he’s from he just says, “Here”. When I ask him about his family, he says, “I don’t have one.” “Everyone has a family,” I say, “whether they like it or not.” “Nope,” he says, scratching Kitty’s belly. “You named your cat “Kitty”?” I ask, scrubbing inside his stove. No one’s done it in ages and there appears to have been a whole lot of explosions. “I didn’t name her.” Silver leaves all the windows open even though the temperature’s been dropping steadily since I got here. When I close one he shoots me a dirty look and mumbles, “Gotta let the air in, Sam.”

“The professional sailors” by Julia in her bed at Ozu

Monday September 15, 2014 at Ozu
5 minutes
from http://www.capri.net

Those boys in their tiny hats
Choosing dance from the inspiration in the stars
The big dipper sings
The Milky Way hums
They close their eyes tight when they actively want beauty
Bringing the excluded ones
All the way from their wall beds
To the centre of the moment
So they can laugh steady and bright
Little ones cheer as if in an arena
The whole team rooting for the single silver thread that binds them

“it has a song.” by Sasha on her couch

Sunday December 15, 2013
5 minutes
A quote by Maya Angelou

You live in a solarium
The walls and ceiling are glass
You polish them when the sun sets
Using an old T-shirt and some white vinegar
You climb up the ladder that belonged to your father
Reaching for the top
Reaching for the small circle
The mark
On a pane facing west
You have twelve cacti
You warn the cat
To watch himself
The solarium has a song
You hear it humming
Mostly in the morning
Lubricated by the dew
Sometimes at night
When the moon shines silver and gold