“moths drift from the trees” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Friday February 9, 2018
10:02pm
5 minutes
Al’s House
Lorna Crozier

I was a sailor once.
I was a mermaid once.
I was an exploding star.
I was a grieving angel.
I was a piece of dust caught
in the bellybutton of a lost boy.
I was a moth once.
I was a good liar.
I was a red stamp
on immigration papers.
I was a banana farmer.
I was a rock star.
I was a bluejay.
I was a fawn that
only survived one spring.
I was a grandmother.
I was a grapefruit.
I was a good listener.
I was a criminal.
I was an exile.
I was a shaman.
I was a lover.
I was the last page of
a library book.
I was a pair of kitchen scissors.
I was Shakespeare’s daughter.
I was a lamb.
I was a killer.
I was a shadow
stretching across the sky.

“wrote a long great piece” by Sasha in her bed


Friday, July 17, 2015
11:57pm
5 minutes
A tweet by Sheila Heti

Sky dancing stories across your cheeks
Light like fingerprints
Eyes are heavy with the week
Open and close
Open and close
Whistling a tune for a new song
Arrived
A shooting star
Picking chords
Cherries
Callouses prove it
Harmonies don’t come easy tonight
It’s work
Kneading the dough
Waiting for it to rise
Patience
YouTube videos
In the oven
Crust turns golden
Sky dancing stories across your cheeks
Sun so high for evening