“And when the revolution frees me” by Julia on her bed

Sunday June 21, 2020
9:16pm
5 minutes
Because We Are Not Taken Seriously
Stephen Dunn

It is the second last night. The penultimate write. It’s the almost goodbye but not quite. It’s the faith of the fingers, or the might. I’ve been showing up alright. All these years and delights, all these tears and all fights, wondering if I’m doing this right, or if strangers share my plight

I was going to say that this revolution has freed me, this decision then, this year around the sun has been a turning one, and all the hurting I’ve done has now been spun into gold plated fun on the page stage all won.

It’s hard to put in words, woe be to the the self-proclaimed writer.

“I almost hear your voice:” by Sasha in the bedroom

Saturday June 20, 2020
11:17am
5 minutes
Full Consciousness
Juan Ramon Jimenez

If I am really writing, I am looking the feathered fish
right in the glassy blue eyes, fantasizing
about kissing a new tongue, Killing an old belief
Atonement for the little lies that build a chain
That house a dog
Barking to all eternity

The tannic truth that always leaves
Legs on the glass,
Nectar of maybe swirled.

I almost hear your voice now:
Giving me notes on the syntax and the rhythm,
Alliteration is lazy,
Voice is derivative,
Punctuation doesn’t serve a purpose.
Your baritone reaching in to my vulnerable folds,
pulling out, pushing in, pulling
out, filet after filet, after lemon wedge, after peony.

I’m exhausted by men who are too fucked to ask questions,
Dole Whip a critique masked as a suggestion, wearing the clothes
of a wolf, wrapped in cellophane and oceanic fury.

Salty lick and suddenly I’m believing every word you say,
Trusting your “Nah” and your nod more than my own.

“gags, oh gags” by Julia on her couch

Friday June 19, 2020
6:44pm
5 minutes
Black Matters
Keith S. Wilson

“What’s so funny”
he asks me, between twists of teeth, careful extraction of meat from bone
“You wouldn’t care about it”
I tell him but it doesn’t come out right
He stops grinding his tongue against his lip for a second, staring at me like the line is there and I crossed it
“So now I don’t care about anything-first it’s I wouldn’t understand what with all my ‘aversion’ to literature, and now I have no heart, no soul to care about anything worth caring for?”
I am looking at him now, trying to hide my sympathy for him, proven more pathetic as the minutes tick the clock off the wall.

“Her bigness sweeps my being” by Julia at her desk

Thursday June 18, 2020
7:35pm
5 minutes
America
Claude McKay

Dear Inside Voice,

I hear you. I’m listening. You used to try to get my attention in little ways. You didn’t want to yell. And I don’t blame you for that. I shouldn’t have made you strain to be noticed. That was wrong of me. See this little seed of avoidance I planted deep inside me was right next to you and it grew faster than I could have imagined. I didn’t mean to block you out, make you feel small, or like you weren’t worth welcoming in. I see now how I would have been aided by your wisdom. I would have been able to give you big rooms to sing into. Big echoing stairwells to sweep your endlessness around. I want that today. I want that still. I hope you know that there is a shift and it’s happening now, from before, and all over. It’s not just me. I’m not the only one stripping away the layers, spiraling in to journey all the way to the core; the tiny voice matched to such big energy. I am not the only one.

“if the seas of cities” by Julia on her bed

Tuesday June 16, 2020
9:21am
5 minutes
if something should happen
Lucille Clifton

If you and I are swimming around each other in a sea of whistling and wondering than how long can we circle the untrues. Maya wrote that nice people didn’t say the word “lies”. And that is what we are being, nice, if not a bit cagey.

This comes after a morning of boundaries laid out in the sun. This is where I need to rise to meet myself. Here is where you cannot cross for whatever reason. I gave the line and everyone knows it is not a “whatever” reason but one that need not be justified.

You’d think that giving up the silent struggle would mean that now I can move forward in my day, but no, this is not what happens. I say what I want/need and you accept it (after reminding me once of a fiasco we had because I attempted this at an earlier point but did not have the courage to maintain my position)and I end up doing for you what I wanted you to do for me.

“10. going, going, gone” by Julia at the desk

Monday June 15, 2020
9:17am
5 minutes
alternate names for black boys
Danez Smith

When mornings summer there is a wild eyed hope for the day.
A warm breeze beckoning, the rickety wooden chair seeming easy.
There are plans and lists and joys and items. All languishing
on the vine. A cool green grape rounds the mouth of hunger and
we wait for the severed head from its body to make its way down
the tube.

By the middle of the day there is a leaf blower competition from
both the front and the alleyway and through the on and off the
crows protecting their wired haunt snap and hurl their elastic
throats. It will be harder to pretend that this isn’t the day.

How quickly can motivation mumble into something softer. It comes
with hesitation. Acceptance of stillness sometimes begs the test.

I have never not grown after a deep surrendering.

“not with legends and poems” By Julia at her desk

Saturday June 13, 2020
9:56pm
5 minutes
Frederick Douglass
Robert Hayden

The evening is spent licking fingers and staring
off into the setting sun

Vitamin D is absorbed through the eyes, she says,
daughter of a doctor, and mine stay open while I drink

The car alarm is inspiring a new song and if we
collaborate with it instead of resist it we might

make music instead of promises
Although there’s nothing left to comment on

I still drag myself on walks to catch ladybugs
kissing small leaves

Something new will come if the route is changed
and I veer right without worry

Let it be and then something is inevitably introduced
to the old way and signals go off

The poems always come when the muscle stops fixating
when the arm throws a ball for the first time in the season

“Each finger weak with memory” by Julia on the couch

Thursday June 11, 2020
8:15pm
5 minutes
History
Camille Rankine

one finger dancing in the honey jar
one finger feeling the inner cheek and tongue
tongue is the root word the root word I’ve been trying to swallow
follow it all the way down and splash hit that puddle
watch out for sailboats drifting

These summer days don’t sit right.
A sunburn is a something to marvel
at and heal slowly. A project of removing the red, keeping the skin moisturized, applying the aloe thick from the plant overtaking the living room.

The memory of ache is upon us
The kinks linger in the muscles and the bones start to creak

one finger dancing in the honey jar
one finger poking the pool of smoke

“I didn’t blink when the water” by Julia on the couch

Saturday June 6, 2020
8:43pm
5 minutes
The Truth
Ross Gay

When the water rushed I did not blink, I did not dare
Summoned the courage to open wider
let her teach me something
let her toss my body around
let her leave her mark on my easy skin

I did not look away
I will not look away

How many dreams in a row will
show me the same thing
A baptism by river
An escape route from the dogs itching for a scent
A marriage to the ocean herself

A purifying cleansing hope
A soaking soul giving testimony
after the eyes get washed and the mouth

“Go home. Get some sleep” by Julia on the bed

Wednesday June 3, 2020
2:29pm
5 minutes
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Michael Chabon

In the last few days we have seen the focus become singular, and good, and finally, and I know I could have pulled up sooner. I know what it means to not have to think about it daily, and not think of my own skin as more than skin. Skin in the game, singular, sorries.

When a friend posts about responding verses reacting to racisim, when a friend posts about needing all lanes and not to worry if you don’t occupy all of them.
These are resonating bells that some rest is needed to show up better and stronger and with attention.

“describe what it might be like to be her child” by Julia on the couch

Sunday May 31, 2020
10:46pm
5 minutes
Room To Write
Bonni Goldberg

She’s soft and open
her thighs spill out of her shorts
like a river running over the cup
she asks permission before she lifts me or puts me down
it’s very important for her to talk to me while she’s chopping the broccoli or the cauliflower
she tells me everything she does

She dances with me when a beam of light hits the floor in the afternoon
she sings me to sleep
She is sometimes crying but mostly smiling
She makes eating fun, making silly faces and noises to distract me
I feel like she would swallow me if she could
if she could put me back in her belly and start the whole thing over
she’s softer today and more open than yesterday

“give me advice!” by Julia at the desk

Thursday May 28, 2020
8:51pm
5 minutes
from an email

I’ve been forbidden from giving advice and there’s nothing I can do.
I was told I can’t give it unless it’s asked of me, so who am I to
argue the great horoscope writer of these days? Maybe she has a point
these unsolicited comments that might not be helpful even though I
think I might see the light.

Lord rest this urge to give words when the silence is sweeter than me.

I have been listening with a scrunched up face like I’m about to say
something but I don’t, like I hear an opening to give a small piece
but then I won’t, cause the listening tells me I didn’t hear the words
that set the stage for giving more words.

I’m getting better at it. I’m realizing how little I’ve done in the
flesh and Ghandi said it best-when a woman asked him how to get her
son to stop eating sugar for a week he told her “Give me one week
and I’ll get back to you.” What did he need the week for? To practice
not having any sugar himself before he could tell her anything.

“channel your energy” by Julia on the couch

Wednesday May 27, 2020
5:15pm
5 minutes
from a fortune cookie

There’s a slice of moon hanging in the west just for me
I can see it from my balcony
and last night I noticed her there
sending off the divine light
pulsing in the almost June sky

I bleed with the new moon and I dance on the bathroom tile when I am visited by the great knowing

When I see her I call her out by name the way I do when I see a hummingbird or a field of horses along the side of the highway while driving past

This naming is a sacred thanks and there is delight and a childlike essence pointing the finger

This belly of filling and emptying
and filling again is a holy magic trick

I am forever sliding through time with a memory tied to my finger
pulling the history through the sky like a kite on a string

“Wild Gourmet Fish” by Julia on the bed

Monday May 25, 2020
1:08pm
5 minutes
West Coast Select Flyer

Haley and Hartley miss making shrimp skewers.
Shrimp has been expensive lately, and the old grill is kaput.
Haley and Hartley can eat other things so it’s okay.
Hartley says the grill never really worked that well.
Haley thinks he’s full of shit because she used to grill
all kinds of vegetables and never had a problem with it.
Hartley got rid of the grill one day and said it was done.
Haley wondered if Hartley was exaggerating and
didn’t want to do some necessary things with it first,
like check to see if it needed a deep clean (like most
things in the apartment) before tossing it to the alley-way
mafia coming by in 10 minute intervals to go through the
bins. Hartley told her that it was for sure done and it
never worked that well to begin with and Haley didn’t go
down and check so she decided to accept the fate of the
old grill even though she couldn’t bring herself to believe
what Hartley was telling her about it. Maybe because once
Hartley threw away some of the mason jars she had stored
under the sink next to the grill. She went looking for them
one day because she was storing them for a reason and they
weren’t there. It took a week for Hartley to admit that he
had thrown them out. He said he didn’t think she needed them.

“positive descriptions of the world” by Julia at the desk

Sunday May 24, 2020
8:46pm
5 minutes
Perceiving Ordinary Magic
Jeremy W. Hayward

This day is a glorious foreshadowing of what is to come
The morning is fresh and free and the afternoon a dark tear
the rest, as it happens, opens up like a wild orchid and
the grass never looked so green so vibrant so nourished

The rain follows to wipe clean any bad mouth tastes and the
sky is hazy again in a way that reminds us we can’t always
bask in the heat of the sun for we would never remember what
it feels like to retreat back into the hole and find comfort
wrapped in a fuzzy blanket that keeps migrating from chair to
the couch to the bed

When all is said and done the rain forest drips on a feathered
song and continues continues continues and the cycle of rebirth
is as beautiful in the thick as it is in the wide

This is what it means to open the chest at the seams and watch
as the exchange of oxygen enters while the beast gently floats
out out out into the place where it can become cloud again and
fuels its purpose of filling until it overflows

“nobody should let them in that night” by Julia on the bedroom floor

Wednesday May 20, 2020
9:24am
5 minutes
Wuthering Heights
Emile Brontë

She whispered in her sleep state
something along the lines of
I do not need to wait for him…
And when the morning came and his
skin wrapped around hers, she could
only flutter her eyelids and sink
deeper into him.

The night before she had reached
a grand conclusion, sitting on the
veranda, sipping lemon water, sifting
through uncomfortable feelings.
She realized that she could leave without
him in tow, and without his permission,
surely, in a world safe enough for all
of her to wander through.

The sun setting pink in the sky was
reflecting off the clouds, a smoke
signal for her to pay attention to
and she noticed the way it rivaled
her desires to be free at last
from the confines of miscalculated
duties.

In the morning light she could have
left him right then and there and
worked very hard not to feel any
particular way about it but then
in that moment things burst open
and all she could want was everywhere
she already was.

The permission to leave, was enough,
and she gave it to herself without
discussing it with anyone outside
herself. It came from within and she
honoured it with a solitary bow
from the top of her head all the way
down to the centre of her longing.

“We invite you to read” by Julia at the desk

Wednesday May 13, 2020
8:34pm
5 minutes
Canada Council For The Arts Newsletter

There’s a man over there singing on the bench

when someone passes him he stops singing and says “Hello!”

And when that someone keeps going instead of stopping what they’re doing

the man says “Hello! Goodbye! Good Hell!”

By the time the person has realized what he’s said, he’s started singing again

Should I have stopped?

They wonder

Should I have taken ten seconds out of my day?

What if he was going to want to talk to me for longer than 10 seconds?

What if I would have been the only conversation he had all day?

The worry doubles and the man keeps singing there on the bench

He doesn’t wonder if the passersby are having enough conversations

He doesn’t ask of them anything actually

He is inviting them to smile

He is inviting them to read the room and see a thing and it’s a giving, actually

He is giving what he can and at some point it’s the singing

And at some point it’s the song

It’s the smile, the stopping to notice

The noticing

The engagement

The opportunity

He gives to whoever might pass not picking based on any other statistics

Gifts can be like that sometimes

“we are on the verge of something.” by Julia on the bed

Tuesday, May 12, 2020
5:55pm
5 minutes
When Things Fall Apart
Pema Chödrön

Choice
a choosing thing
I choose you
I choose this
I choose the something that I am on the verge of
I see it in the window
I gaze at it from the street
I envision myself wearing the purple cloak
the golden cloak
the light bathes me
if I choose to be cleansed
a choice then,
a choosing thing
I choose this
I choose us
I choose the future me
who will carry this history of recorded words
I choose these words for her
so she will see when she looks
back on all that was and wasn’t stamped in ink
that was and wasn’t chosen to be eternal
that this love for her is
boundless now and always so
purple
gold
clear as day and pure as night
this choice to choose herself
and to do it daily
twice daily
all the live long daily
so she will know
that she is what love knows
because she is holding up
the mirror and taking a deep look
she will choose love too
knowing that this love
this thing
this me
has chosen her

“I bend double under its gaze,” by Julia on the couch

Monday, May 11, 2020
12:48pm
5 minutes
All the Room You Need
Lorna Crozier

Watching this house finch live its best life on the wire outside my apartment is a reminder that I too may perch and sing and drink a cup of sunlight and warm my bones

It is all this body needs and when that rings true sometimes there is a period of great avoiding

the insides can be enjoyed when they are scrubbed clean of all the sand and hair collecting under furniture and in the hard to reach crevices

then the sitting can be proven good even if the body is now stuck to a couch or other inside thing

with a hope in the broom
chaos is swept to the side, and then reimagined with the new placement of certain objects

the pepper grinder now here on the placemat and the big popcorn pot finally washed and upside down to dry

Restoration
chirp chirping

“when you went to Vermont” by Julia at the desk

Friday, May 8, 2020
10:00am
5 minutes
she is in the kitchen now
Nora Pace

I didn’t wait up every night I stayed up
I rubbed one out like it would be my last time
fell asleep in a crooked pocket of the couch
and remained despite the spinal chord damage
the knots now forming

If you were in a different time zone working
sleeping finding yourself in a bigger city
then this house would become a time zone all
on its own a spinning thing of waking sleeping
sliding across sheets and floors and into
breakfast without thinking about another
person’s hunger

It could have been a disaster but I don’t
linger on moments in between when you step
yourself out of town out of my life for six
weeks or something like that loosing track
and not counting and we stop calling each
other on the phone this distance making the
heart grow fonder for a thing that this isn’t

And it was worth noting how many boxes I
ticked off the list and all the living I
did without the help of another person’s
hunger telling me when it was time to eat
time to cook up the browning green beans
time to get out of bed

“When the rains come,” by julia on the couch

Thursday, May 7, 2020
8:13pm
5 minutes
Monologue of a Fly’s Shadow
Danielle Hanson

If I’m laying in the earth when the rains come
leave me there
let me drink at the mighty fall
let me drench in the midnight sink
lather my bones so they are ocean ready
force out the salt of my skin
till I am as clean as the first day of spring
leave me there to swallow what I’ve thirsted for

Do not bring a bucket
do not dry my hands
do not move the muck from my eyelids
I will be purified by the ends of this and I will have waited

After a new wind has blown me
if I’m laying when the rains come
leave me
oh leave me there

“between the kitchen and living room” by Julia

Saturday, May 2, 2020
1:06pm
5 minutes
From a text

I have been floating
today between the kitchen
and the living room
doing most of my living
in the kitchen where the food
is being turned into action
into love

At 8am I chop the red pepper
the green bean the red onion the purple cabbage the garlic the mushroom

I like the way they sit cut side by side like different age groups in a church leadership club

I turn off my need to wonder at myself through the outside lens
I listen about David Wojnarowicz
to Thomas Beckman and his Violance
to the sound of the egg crisping up on the bottom

The living room, where I am now
is a place to record all the living I have been doing while alive in the kitchen

the packet of pens and coloured pencils lay outstretched

“The cost of rural housing” by Julia on the bed

Friday, May 1, 2020
1:55pm
5 minutes
Life After the City
Charles Long

Bobbie-Jo wants to buy a house in New Brunswick. She has never been to New Brunswick, doesn’t have any friends from New Brunswick, does not currently work in New Brunswick, or even know the capital of New Brunswick.
Bobbie-Jo doesn’t care about the rules and the way things “oughta go” because watching her aunt Aimee lose her mind while trying to keep everyone else in it was torture at best. Bobbie-Jo knows about dreams instead, about leaping up and out. About maybe landing on a star or something like it. Bobbie-Jo knows the prices of homes in New Brunswick are better for her than they are here. She doesn’t need to live in a big city. The prices are even better for her in the country. Bobbie-Jo writes her big ideas on the back of an old Lifehouse poster for No Name Face.
She maps out her next few years in a broad sense. Things aren’t here they are there. Things aren’t happening, they’re slipping away. Bobbie-Jo sways to the beat of her own night music.

“Knock! Knock” by Julia on the couch

Thursday, April 30, 2020
11:23pm
5 minutes
Villa Incognito
Tom Robbins

You buzz up from the lobby and I buzz inside then I buzz you in and everying is going to be alright

I forget I’m wearing the apron
I know I’ve left the ribs under the broiler for a smidge too long

the apartment smells like almost sex
When you come in we kiss and drop
the sharade for a minute to laugh
we laugh we laugh
“It’s nice to see you again” then some more kissing

I forget how quickly I will give over a playlist
and you do not take the bait
forget that you don’t “know” where the cutlery is

The first night on the patio and
I am wearing earrings and you are looking cute and nervous in your easy smiling way

The clouds are clay coloured with all this pretty blue

“The internet traded my personality” by Julia at the desk

Saturday April 25, 2020
12:43pm
5 minutes
Vancouver for Beginners
Alex Leslie

I don’t want to mention the INTERNET
but now it’s too late and this is
something I resist so I know the only
option for it is to persist

If I name everything in one shot will
it stop begging to be referenced in
all future proof of living?

I works so hard to prove existence
without discussing the WORLD WIDE WEB
because this web is a bit of trap for
me and I already have issues with going
out into the world beyond my dreams

I guess if I say that this is BLOG
on a WEBSITE that I utilize it will
stop trying to wrestle itself into my
life

I guess if I say that there will be TAGS
referencing the text that I wrote in
CATEGORIES on the right of the SCREEN
that you will know what I’m talking about

I wish you could just read this in a
book like the good old days but how
would you see it or look at it if it’s
a thing you need to hold in your hands?

Does it feel like I’m forcing the mentioning
of the VIRTUAL SPACE because I most
certainly feel the push and I don’t like it
even a little bit

I don’t even have enough INTERNET lingo
to keep this going for five minutes without
stopping and so forgive me if there are not
enough ONES AND ZEROS

“A man parted his beard” by Julia at the desk

Friday April 24, 2020
10:12am
5 minutes
Animal
Kim Goldberg

A man parted his beard and I saw the great
white space between yesterday and today
It was wide and wide and great and there
we found some clarity because we dared, I
think, to ask of ourselves that courtesy.

A man twisted the red out of his face and
then one day overnight or in a blink there
were so many silver strays and things looked
like they made more sense more wise sense
All this time the man was living living

The facial hair goes through some stages
of grief just like the rest of us
at first there is a rough stubbornness and
soft things are always getting poked
instead, denying the possible softness
being hurt like that, unaware

There is an anger at one point, so the
man parts his beard to see what’s underneath
skin still young and learning

then it grows some more but changing
shape and colour and being too long
suddenly it is just right and it’s
all a cycle of time that no one is
marking up on the calendar

“I had a voracious appetite” by Julia at the desk

Thursday April 23, 2020
6:50pm
5 minutes
You Never Stop Saving The World
Don English

When I was little
5, 6, halo hair of fuzz
ringlets underneath
I sauced my face a smile
like the Joker on Nonna’s
Bones

Her ribs were silky smooth
the meat would slide off
and you could slurp the juice
off a clean sword

They were my favourite
growing up I wanted to
be exactly like my father
if he held a hot pepper
while eating then I held
a hot pepper while eating
and if he didn’t wipe his
mouth until after he was
finished, I would smile
sauce all over the table
until I had gotten full

There’s a photo of me looking
satiated and filled with
glee after finishing my plate
and likely bites off my sister’s
picky plate and my brother’s
baby plate, meat sauce on the
collar of my balloon patterned shirt

I liked being the favourite
in some way, eating when
maybe I wasn’t really hungry
but in the mood to taste
something

My father liked a girl who
could eat and any kid that
didn’t say ew before trying
something as if they knew
everything about everything
except how to ride a bike
maybe or to finish their
dinner before begging for
dessert

“Perfection will do you in.” By Julia at the desk

Friday April 17, 2020
5:02pm
5 minutes
Perfection, Perfection
Father Kilian McDonnell

Today I took the kitchen shears
which they tell you not to use
and then I cut bangs by myself
which they tell you not to do
and then I said who knows who
knows and then I left the curls
on the counter because some
of them looked too nice to
throw away

I knew attempting this would
not yield perfection
because they tell you not to
attempt doing this at all
and since I’ve been prone to
overblown expectations on my
hair and myself and my hair

Since I was young with bangs
cut by my Zia Patricia who
was at the time a retired
hair-stylist due to all the
chemicals destroying her skin
I longed for what my sister
with straight hair got when
I received a 90s regret instead

I was told by the professional
naysayer in my head that bangs
are not for me because they
would get frizzy and they
wouldn’t be very easy to dry
properly without a diffuser
and then it was all white
noise because I did cut them
and when I dried them they
looked as okay as I predicted

“in the dirt in the corner,” by Julia on the couch

Thursday April 16, 2020
9:01am
5 minutes
Ara Poetica #100
Elizabeth Alexander

Jam says it’s funny how clean the apartment feels, and sort of thrown away, like a whispy dream to nobody.
I say, that’s because someone’s been cleaning it, and less whispy more caged, more Please Look Around.

I don’t expect Jam to see things the way I see them but I do get mad when he doesn’t. As if it’s his lack of wanting to instead of his eyeline a foot above mine.

I am angry not because I am the one doing it but because that means when it needs to be done I have to pick myself off the couch and put my ideas on the shelf while I hit all the corners and all the close to the ground things I can see.

I have to remain responsible, scheduled. I am the one who has to keep my eyes open.

This morning Jam told me he loved me with his whole heart and his whole mind and his whole body and while I looked like I was asleep I was very much awakened by that. I thought he had forgotten his old habit of whispering affirmations alongside the call of the birds as the sun rises.

“many years in the making” by Julia leaning

Wednesday April 15, 2020
9:06pm
5 minutes
Becoming Wise
Krista Tippett

It has been many years in the making mix
the wet ingredients folding into the dry
light dusting of risk on every surface
there won’t always be this moment so I
have to be in it for as long as it lasts.
Pretty good plan. You know you can do
anything for 60 seconds. I don’t know
the proof of that but I’d like to think
it was the truth of that and time and I
are riding high on the 60 second climb

When it gets messy it puts ideas into
action someone has to deal with
what will we do about the scissors there
and canister of pens in every room
To clean it would require the decision
to move onto something easier to look
at to stomach to hold space for but
the idea to clean only came from the
mess in the first place and how else
would you notice the clean?

“you find solace here” by Julia at the desk

Saturday April 11, 2020
10:25am
5 minutes
from Julia’s 2017 notebook

I got it in time and I know it’s the truth
this enjoyment is fine until it tightens the noose
Can I be quiet still
can I open the door
is there something I’m missing
always searching for more
you find solace here with the click and the clacking
you love it so much you can never go back and
if you do you can ride the next wave that’s coming
sometimes nothing feels fun
but I’m certain that it’s still sunny
It’s been a trip so far but I know it’s just starting
every day in a jar I can examine closely
I could keep piling dried flowers into it or
I could leave it half full to sit with the sore
It’s the thing I am wondering if it ever grows sour
all this silver lining needs a cloud to cling to or devour
and when the hunger strikes
feeling it is alright
you find solace here with your fork and your knife
there’s no wrong and no right
only long days and nights
when the light’s off it echoes
but it’s still finding its heroes
in movies and candles and notebooks and sex
sometimes it’s the office
sometimes it’s the bed
ok just one minute left
I know I’ve said what I said
but this whole thing captures a moment
even if that moment’s filled with dread
soon it will change from this thread
another thought in my head
a hope or a high that I can hold onto instead
This is what will be read.

“I pretty much forgot my birthday even happened.” by Julia on her bed

Thursday April 9, 2020
1:08pm
5 minutes
from a text

It was a long time ago now
since March trudged along
mud in the eyes where the
clear lines were supposed
to meet

Our last great gathering
in our first great home
was on a leap year and
we huddled mostly in two
rotating circles leaping
from one normal to another

there is no real rule about
the leap year except that it
is a bonus day and one we
like to remember, no matter
how much leaping takes place

The wine flowed, the beer
chilled, the conversations
hovered over the baked brie
stuffed high with mushrooms
and dates and red onions

The friends toasted to my
new age, this year of me
that would always be mine
especially if celebrated
and cemented in time on
the boundless month that
every four years spills
over into the next

“I have to give people credit” by Julia at her desk

Wednesday April 8, 2020
9:02pm
5 minutes
from a Facebook Post

They want to help and be of value
they want that over success
they want to lift up the little guy
they want to stretch their little hearts out
they want to drink water before they feel thirst
they want to pad the hallways and bed frame corners
they want to go to bed at a decent hour
they want to get up early and run
they want to run
they want to burst out running
they want to eat pancakes for dinner
they want to leave non-perishables in the book houses
they want to make signs and mark their thanks with their hand prints
they want to move over when the intersection gets tight
they want to burst out running
they want to stretch their little hearts out
they want to sleep in
they want to call their mothers
they want to share their first born’s first words
they want to take silly photos
they want to applaud
they want to bang on the drum
they want to see each other’s face
they want to heal their hurt
they want to keep the ocean happy
they want to listen to their bodies
they want to hold their boyfriends
they want to eat at the same table
they want to cry into each other’s arms
they want to whistle at the chickadee for having the same love call
they want to go to bed early.

“Until we accept the fact” by Julia leaning into her couch

Saturday April 4, 2020
8:46pm
5 minutes
quoted by Henry Miller

He’s your friend and I think he’s funny. I think until we accept the fact that I will be drawn to funny people and you will have friends that are funny because you are funny that this will be the way.
It only make sense.
I like you better but I want to be on his team. I think you’re funnier but I welcome his persective.
I am glad you have funny friends because that is better for me in the long run.
Thank you for the wine.
Thank you for laughing at my jokes.
Thank you for calling the shots.

Today you ordered wrong and then flung a chopstick and I watched and waited until all was centred again. Some days are not the best representations of us but they are memorable and that always goes farther then when it’s regular and hum drum. It is never hum drum with you. Thank you for showing me your hurt and for trusting me with that. I will tell everyone how much you mean to me by detailing your every move. I will tell them about the way you kissed me earlier too. A truth in it that I wished words could explain.

“Whoa, I was toasted” by Julia

Friday, April 3, 2020
6:14pm
5 minutes
Ode to American English
Barbara Hamby

I hope my ghost is happy with me
for employing my right hand as a guide
I am too…
I must go slowly so I can make
out the words
So far I’ve found
it’s easier when I sing
I have always known but
now I’m listening
and so…
Memory…
Amazing depths
how far you reach
I know you’re for me
I thank you for it

“Who win” by Julia on her couch

Thursday, April 2, 2020
11:25am
5 minutes
To fight aloud, is very brave
Emily Dickinson

It’s not about winning.
I read that in an old journal from 2017. On the next page I found a love letter to myself saying that I have to “love people enough to share the truth of me with them” and I thought it was a good something to remember. It’s not about winning, it’s about love.
And isn’t always that. Isn’t it always love, even when it’s hiding away or waiting in the wide open spaces we stop seeing? Love never lays dormant and if nothing else, let us commit that to memory.

It is easy to blame the lack of love even when it has always been. How is love supposed to win in a fight that is not fair? But then again, it’s not about winning.

“He can fix anything” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday March 31, 2020
4:21pm
5 minutes
Easter Morning
Jim Harrison

He’ll be waiting till morning because he can’t do anything until the sun rises.
He’s busy, all day, it seems, but night time shuts him right down. This might be
a survival technique or some kind of boundary he put in place a long time ago that
he hasn’t been able to unlearn. It’s too fucking bad because I need my drip fixed.
I know that sounds sexy, but I’m talking about my faucet and if he can’t do anything
tonight, then I’m shit out of luck and things, as far as I can tell in my world, are
all about me and that simply won’t fly. Before you get on my ass about waiting for
“him” to fix my shit like some knight (day) in shining armour, there is a reason
why I am not doing it. I am the one who washes the dishes, and makes the food, and
rakes the leaves, and initiates intimacy, and folds the fucking laundry. Do you know
how he does it? He wouldn’t fold it, that’s how. I tell him, we want to take care of
our delicates because they go near our genitals and we should be respecting our
genitals. AND I don’t like my folded boxers touching his mushed up balled into the drawer
boxers. Makes me feel like I have to clean everything all over again. Plus, he’s a plumber.
That’s what he does! And he can fix anything! HE JUST FUCKING WON’T.

“That’s what I like about disappointment:” by Julia at her desk

Sunday, March 29, 2020
6:57pm
5 minutes
Disappointment
Tony Hoagland

to fear a thing that hasn’t yet happened is the most normal thing we do. we humans. we us.

I want to put it out there. There universe. Universe us:
we don’t have to do it like that.

okay hear me out. Here me. Here you.

what if we left anticipation for the good stuff?

don’t give up on me yet. Me yet. Us.

what if I anticipate the good, I experience fear in the moment, but I do not anticipate the disappointment because I can not know any moment other than this one?

I you. You me. Me we. We us.
See what I’m trying to cultivate here on this grey clouded open night?

I never learned to tell the future. I have dreams that lead the way sometimes but it’s never exactly as it appears to be. Be this.
Be us.

“The golden brooch” by Julia at her desk

Friday March 27, 2020
12:18pm
5 minutes
The courage that my mother had
Edna St. Vincent Millay

What’s strange is the passing hour
a molding from my hands and into this
I sat down with one thought in mind
and it floated on into the next the way
I think it was all meant to do in
the early place

It’s been a combination of moments and
avoidance and fear that keep an idea
stranded there on the tip of the tongue
waiting for someone to say the damn thing
already

Say the damn thing already

I want you to know that there is love
here for you even if you don’t recognize it

I want you to know that we can’t give up
on our joy even if we lay it down every
now and again

I want you to know that there will be
something different at the end of this
sentence and if you follow it till the
end or to the almost end or to the last
word you might notice something lingering
there that you never tuned into before

I want you to know

that the damn thing is this:

One day we will brush past each other
on a crowded street and it will be more
like a pinning to the chest or arm or
thigh and we will be stuck together as
if we never left this hallelujah
in the first place

“We want the suns and moons” by Julia on the couch

Wednesday, March 25, 2020
8:00pm
5 minutes
A Physics
Heather McHugh

inside these days we hear more of the neighbours jumping

there’s a lot of working out from home, which we hear and now understand what it must sound like to the people below us when we dance it out

There’s a lot of working from home, but that one’s not so loud
Most people are still, home, but not as loud as us

We’re the ones screeching to each other from across the apartment

we’re the ones banging pots and pans and spoons around

we’re the ones playing the guitar and the ukulele and the harmonica and sometimes the little egg shaker

we’re the ones singing
we’re the ones practicing our lines

we’re the ones sliding the coffee table back and forth

At 7:00 everyone cheers and we are not the only loud ones then

we are doing our inside things and if we hear anyone doing theirs we do not get angry but remember humanity above us and down the hall

we dream of warm nights playing music together on our patio, saying goodbye to the sun and welcoming the moon

“They’ll be able to describe it” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday, March 24, 2020
12:17pm
5 minutes
Teaching a Child the Art of Confession
David Shumate

They’ll be able to describe it by the finches singing in the yard
the construction workers outside still constructing work and homes and noise
the old photographs now strewn across the coffee table and some on top of the bedside drawers
They’ll be able to paint a grey spring and remember what March felt like during this
The space held between people with great care, like a balloon blown up past its comfort
or an egg, last and lonely keeping the refrigerator feeling
They’ll be able to search their daily journals that all start with today, and end with now
that focus on the heathers brightening up every corner or the magnolia passing us a much needed bloom
They’ll describe it in belly moans and leg cramps
in chapped hand skin and swollen eyelids
in red cowboy shirts and purple lipstick warn at home on a day that feels like any other day and no day and this day
They’ll be able to describe it with a time capsule, a few items here and there from the house that they won’t miss too much
A reminder that right here and right now there are things to collect
and give us

“A marriage is risky business these days” by Julia at The Cottage

Sunday, March 22, 2020
9:23pm
5 minutes
Wedding Poem for Schele and Phil
Bill Holm

When the invite came in the mail I didn’t take it out of its envelope.
Marnie would have fainted if she knew. I just threw it straight into the trash.
It was hard not being able to tell her. I mean, if you were me you wouldn’t tell her.
No one needs their best friend telling you that they can’t trust themselves to make a better decision.
I couldn’t support it and I don’t think I should have lied to her about it.
If I had gone, she would have had me there but I’d be lying the whole time.
It’s not better to lie about stuff like that.
Guess you could say I avoided it, I lied, same same double same, but the truth is, Marnie didn’t get subtle wake up calls.
She didn’t take anything seriously and in a way I kind of hoped she would have this one time.
It was the end of our friendship, to be honest with you. Marnie wasn’t going to listen to me tell her after the fact.
It’s my fault though. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror after I let her walk down the aisle.
Some people think it was my job to say something, but I don’t know, if it were that easy…
Well. Anyway, all I can say is marriage is already a risky business these days. It doesn’t need
more doubt thrown onto the fire.

“The spring is compressed” by Julia on the floor

Friday March 20, 2020
10:11pm
5 minutes
A Brief Lecture on Door Closers
Clemens Starck

I wake today to a text but I’m not allowed to look at it until 7am. I am not in a rush. I lay back in the bed. I lay there laying. I make a coffee, read the text and a friend has asked how I spent the equinox, and I don’t want to tell her that I ate a Big Mac. I didn’t remember about the equinox until she mentioned it. She is not trying to make me feel bad because she didn’t do anything for it after all and also she would have respected my choice to have a Big Mac.

I wake again now after falling asleep on the couch and my book is open and I am exposed once more with all my swirly ls and inconsistent shadow-work.

I say I’m tired and then I write this. This makes me less tired. My hips need some help. My skin has endured so many broken promises. Someone else has waited for me.

“Permit me to add my first” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday March 17, 2020
5:20pm
5 minutes
Old French Fairy Tales
Sophie, Comtesse de Ségur

you will find a journal of unsent letters addressed to you
in each one will be our ending but you will never suspect that they are about you

you will find the truth of what was hurting and why

you will learn the code words based on the shape of my Gs and in the loop of my Zs

you will wonder why you never saw it first and if there might be proof of this reckoning coming somewhere down an earlier pipe

you will not think any of those Gs or Zs are about you until one day that is all you can think of and then you will see yourself all over everything

you will question why you couldn’t ask me better questions or why you assumed me one way

must have been the wild west in me, the untameable horse, the rulebreaker you always wished you could be

you will be shocked on the outside but on the inside you will know the truth and how you are responsible for more than you name

“but what disturbed that idea” by Julia at her desk

Saturday March 14, 2020
5:29pm
5 minutes
The War of the Worlds
H. G. Wells

We were going to leave. Leave for a while, you know, nothing permanent, nothing too far out there, but things have changed since we said we’d do it. We told only a few people but that’s because we were trying to go off the grid in a casual, ghost-like way. If we left our current lives quietly, nobody would have any suspicions raised because there’d be no one sounding the alarm, and by the time they noticed, by the time they came looking for us we’d be far enough gone that they wouldn’t be able to interfere. Although we were worried about that slight possibility, we knew that most people cared about themselves more than what we were doing so the reality of us being persons of interest was not one we’d have to face. That being said, we were slightly concerned that Canada Post would be the first to realize that we had left. They tend to be the most aggressive about people especially when they’re trying to deliver your mail but can’t seem to do that if your mailbox is too full. That’s when they start keeping tabs on you to make sure this is, after all, your true address, and you, after all, are a true citizen.

We had rented a small cabin in a place I will no longer share, in case we can still access it. I shouldn’t have said cabin, but maybe that won’t matter either after any of this. What disturbed the idea of us going was the whistle from the morning bird; calling us, calling us, calling us.

“sap moves in the veins” by Julia on her couch

Friday March 13, 2020
8:17pm
5 minutes
The Day Dream
Nora Acheson

I move slowly like sap dripping out

I want to be a thing that absorbs

light
sound
love
skin
human
faith
time
growth
abundance
appreciation
patience
foundation

I am slow to goodbye these wonder souls now buried in my spine

I will write a song for them
and one for their love

if I run I miss the magic
the pen pal letter written in the dark
the candle light pushed down into the coffee table for a bit of wax to right the empty

I will breathe deeply, move mountains, and these things take time, did you know?

these things take a hammer and nail, hand building, hand writing, hand holding and why rush

why race when the sun is setting pink over the hill and there are people gathered to witness

why look all the way in only to speed up past the heart throbbing for the heat of another

there is a slow we can drink

“On the dank and dirty ground.” By Julia on her couch

Tuesday March 10, 2020
9:20pm
5 minutes
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
William Shakespeare

It didn’t use to be this way
There was more bowing down, bending,
licking the dank dirty ground if they asked me to
And they asked me to

A softer bone where the back should have been
I could have folded all the way if the tile was
underneath me
and if you’d ask me if I regret it
I would tell you that I don’t know who that floor kissing person was
who that brownie off the ground eating person was
who she was who couldn’t say no
who didn’t understand the word

It didn’t use to be this way

A quiet scream would find itself lodged
in the back of the lung and nothing would
surface for fear of disturbing the peace

Now peace is not considered
only sounding the alarm if the inside says so
It was so much easier then to let them all think
I had a hair to curl or a smile to lend

But it was so much harder to ignore what I needed
So much harder to draw the line and
choose a side

“The king’s daughter” by Julia on her couch

Monday March 9, 2020
9:09pm
5 minutes
The Frog Prince
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

pissed now I am pissed now because
I just wrote the thing and then poof it was gone
ask Daddy and his friends to get it back
princess asks Daddy and his friends for anything and everything

Pissed since Saturday morning anyway
swollen undereye because of the drink because
last time I thirsted
thirsted
Daddy fetch the hair of the dog
the cure
get me what I need

I won’t go to where I said I’d go
Daddy and his friends have talked to the people and they are no longer expecting me
so here I am writing this

writing this thing so you know that I do other things
than ask other people to do things for me
I do them
i always do them

But when something gets in my way I make excuses and I never take the blame
There is too much ringing in my brain
notify
notification
your storage is insufficient
Your security adviser is speaking to you
You’re still ignoring that friend
and that contract
It has been 6 days did you want to send a mother fucking follow up?

Maybe if I had a mother fucking mother I wouldn’t need to ask
daddy for all of it
or his friends
or tell you about it
or tell anyone anything about anything

But I am writing this still
And for right now
today
that is enough.

“Our faces become our biographies” By Julia on the couch

Friday March 6, 2020
9:01pm
5 minutes
Quote by Cynthia Ozick

Biography is about me I can be about me except I’m not doing the telling

My story is mine to tell you can all retreat
you don’t think it’s my job to write it but I’ve been writing in my sleep
you’re not thinking and I am swept
this whole buried treasure in my chest you can write your own story
requires living though like a bird or a silken thing

say your own words spin your own ideas and tell it the way you see it I always tell it the way I see it I’ve been sleeping on it
resting on it
stalking it ready and easy on it
I will take my own word over anybody else’s

I will tell my heart on my face

“Caley pushed her sandy brown hair” by Julia in the fishbowl

Tuesday, February 18, 2020
3:37pm
5 minutes
A Private Wild
Laurel Nakanishi

Ever since Magda told her that if she swallowed too much of her hair it would form a big ugly glob in her stomach that would start stealing the nutrients from anything that she fed herself, Caley was trying desperately to stop eating it. She sometimes heard Magda growling, or howling at night when she was supposed to be fast asleep. Caley didn’t want Magda to know she would spy on her and secretly believed her to be some wild wolf woman from another time. Or land.
She can’t remember know why she started putting her blonde braid in her mouth. Surely, Magda told her once, a handsomely paid and dressed person would one day be employed to help her with that. It was nice having someone tell Caley about the future and what to expect. Everyone knows her own mother couldn’t be bothered to give Caley the time of day. Once, Caley almost choked on her ponytail and her mother, reading a magazine, simply glanced up.

“a petite woman in her late twenties” by Julia on her couch

Friday February 14, 2020
6:01pm
5 minutes
Confidence Woman
Stephen Henigha

I was once a petite woman in my late twenties
I was once in denial about that
thought I was as big as a house
as tall as an evergreen tree
as lion as a lion

I used to roar as loud as my hair
and you called me your lion
I believed you when you said you liked me disruptive
not polite
not the word
distracting
sometimes unaware of the volume and the location and the audience

I was once a person who ran out instead of turning in
a woman in her late twenties with a chip on her shoulder
a secret in her tears and a confession
somewhere type-written in the nook of her bedside table
I used to beg the moon to take me with her
let me watch
let me learn from her and all that silky show

I used to hate myself for lying
when I was so hungry for the truth
I used to hate anyone for lying
because I was hiding the truth
I convinced myself I was the world’s best actress
and you were the one who couldn’t tell that this was all a movie
that every word spoken was screen tested
that every song hushed was the result
of so much bloodied shame

I used to blame other people for my dark Tuesdays
or Wednesdays and wished that someone would
find a new hole to haunt

I’ve never forgotten her bold suggestion” by Julia in the fishbowl

Thursday February 13, 2020
12:59pm
5 minutes
Once and Future Prairie
Lisa Bird-Wilson

Wisdom draped in scotch tape and fixed to a card-board cut-off of a cereal box
Wisdom is all around us
Inspiration is in every wall and speck and web of dust and racing silver fish

The ideas keep coming in the shower when it is too slippery to hold them
I remind myself of the words in sequence, repeating them to myself
like a choo choo train choo choo choo choo and hopefully my tongue
will find a place for them to live until I can open my mouth next and spill

I remember that these thoughts are not trying to kill me but help me
that to ignore them is worse than to stop the water, dry off the arm
and scribble down what’s left of this call, this conjuring

I remember that when they come knocking I better answer the door
and can’t use the excuse that they never visit anymore
because they do and I’m the one who doesn’t have cookies for them
I’m the one who doesn’t have a place for them to cuddle up under
a cozy blanket or a blank sheet of paper worth holding

Waves waves here and then again not and this will be what forever looks like
I can’t wait for a garden to plant all these biting seeds into
and the days to slow so I can learn to let them grow

“I left behind my unfinished thesis” By Julia in the fishbowl

Wednesday February 12, 2020
10:40pm
5 minutes
Who Took My Sister?
Shannon Webb-Campbell

I’m not going back to school
I’m not going to do it
Sorry, Leash, I’m calling it off
I’m going to work for the rest of
my life and wish I didn’t work
that’s all
I’m not feeling bad about it
I’m not giving it any second thoughts
you want me to feel bad
I won’t
school isn’t for everyone especially
not for people who don’t want to be there

All I have is a gut feeling telling me
that I won’t be better because of it
Leash, you have graduated and have noticed
some benefits, what are you doing now friend
I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t attribute it
to anything you learned there
aren’t you fixing people’s teeth now
aren’t you living in your mother’s basement?

I don’t want to be wanted by the kind of
people who turn their noses up at someone
who lacks all the training
I know who I am and who I’ll be
and aren’t I already doing the things they
teach you in school? Aren’t I already
running out of paint and finding off cuts
of laminate in the recycling bin to
try out my thoughts?

Aren’t I killing time here anyway?

“a performance of about two and a half hours” by Julia in the fishbowl

Tuesday February 11, 2020
3:06pm
5 minutes
Nibelung
Devon Code

Welcome to the show.
Tonight you will be seeing the masks come off.
You won’t realize there were masks to begin with because they are excellently made.
Crafted by the very best internal monologue the theatre has ever known.
These masks are not the kind tied with string or easily removed.
They’re made of skin. It’s pretty freaky actually. They’re built to look just like us!
But tonight, we will be taking them off. Not right away, of course, because what
conflict are we even talking about then. Not right away or abruptly.
After you see us with the masks on a bit, after you see us reflecting your mask back to you a bit…
Oh you didn’t know? Our masks are visible if they’re similar to yours. That’s so funny, isn’t it? Curious, even, let’s make a show about it, ooh look we are!
Tonight we’ve gotten tired of wearing them. We’d rather let our true faces breathe because after all this time sporting them to every function, every event, every scary moment, it gets exhausting.
You’re tired too, I bet, from carrying it around on your cheeks.
It’s not uncommon, actually, for us to want to take off a thing that separates us from everyone else, but here we are keeping them close as if we can’t live without them.
Tonight, though..
We dance.

“They should not be ordinary words” by Julia in the fishbowl

Monday February 10, 2020
11:35am
5 minutes
What’s in a Name
Moez Surani

When you give someone your tongue you should not offer easy words
of comfort or the kinds that get the point across the quickest
Do not look for lightening to communicate
There is a more interesting journey voice could take

When you give someone your mouthful make sure you are steady
Hold on to the railing first but let go right before you send it
Words, not ordinary words, but the ones overflowing
Pour a river over the edge

Offerings from the guts cannot be tied up neatly with a string
Not left in the steel drum too long banging around the echo
They’re whole and good and singing so let them know that each
one of them belongs before it trickles off the sides

When you give someone your heart you should not expect a swiftness
a straightforward-to-it-ness, a target hit and reached with a spike
Do not turn it arrow from the start to the finish
Let it soak in the air between two possibilities, a drip of honey down the jar

“The letter should be read out loud” by Julia in the fishbowl

Friday February 7, 2020
2:00pm
5 minutes
Anger, Boundaries & Safety
Joann S. Peterson

Dear Anyone,

Are you listening? I’m wondering because there have been a few people asking and you haven’t responded yet. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want to give you the opportunity to take your time and to give your best answer. I’m not asking you to have the answer, please, anyone, don’t get it twisted. I’m looking for voice, for acknowledgement, I’m looking for something along those lines if you have it. Do you have it? Is this letter being read out on the Loud Speaker? Is it being broadcast all the way to you, wherever you are, wherever you are? I think it should be stated that there’s a lot of different ways to do this, a variety of options for you, anyone, to show me, someone, that you give a shit. If I swear harder will you blast it on the radio? FUCKING PLEASE, anyone, PLEASE. Is begging the same as swearing? Is it getting your attention yet, don’t you see I need this connection the way all of us do? I’m not sure why I have to convince you, I was told anyone could love me, anyone would be honoured to know me, and what are you doing then? What is more important than replying to this?
Is it about something else?

“trust the face of expansion” by Julia on the 84

Wednesday February 5, 2020
6:11pm
5 minutes
The Power Of Intention
Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

in search of things to touch, Poppy floats around my office with tiny wings
she hovers over everything
her fingertips grazing any item with texture, like the lamp, or smooth, like the ribbon on the lamp
I haven’t brought up her last sadness because she seems to be in good spirits
but I want her to know I was thinking about her

Poppy finds the velvet material on the lounge chair and rubs it between her palms almost rhythmically, as if the answer is there and she is doing her best to hear it in full

I risk it and immediately
regret it, asking her about
the last time and her face drops because she had forgotten about it and there was a reason

I watch her drop subjects like burnt bacon bits
letting them crumble to the floor
without looking for a broom

“picking mushrooms at the edge” by Julia in the fishbowl

Tuesday February 4, 2020
11:04am
5 minutes
What Kind Of Times Are These
Adrienne Rich

Manny and I go foraging and Rutabaga lunges ahead of us
we take hemp bags and sticky tape to seal them off

When Rutabaga parks herself along the roots of the chestnut trees
we take a small sip of our camomile tea and bend down

The earth is cool and damp and Rutabaga coats herself in it
Manny is humming under his breath and I whisper the words left out

Quando Quando Quando Quando…

We are forest people now and we sip espresso standing up
while Rutabaga makes friends with the Macellaio’s dog

Together they sing out and passersby laugh at their duet

Manny in the woods and I with our backpacks carry every
mushroom friend we make

“He could have been a rich man” by Julia in the fishbowl

Monday February 3, 2020
9:59am
5 minutes
Memorial
Alice Oswald

Dear Zio,

I was thinking about you earlier. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.
I like that word. Happy. Because you changed the meaning of it for me.
I wonder what you’re doing today. If you and Nonna and Nonno are still hugging Zio in reunion’s rich embrace. I thought I saw you lighting up the sky just beyond the mountain peaks. As I noticed you there, I was talking to your sister on the phone and she mentioned you. We both said “Ciao!” to you and it morphed the way I was walking. I often think of you. When an Elvis song comes on, or when I see a man dancing. You were a man dancing all the life I knew you and that changed the meaning of that for me too. You asked if we were happy. And I wish I had the words I do now to talk with you about it. To shoot some questions your way instead and jot it all down in a notebook dedicated solely to you.
Today you are abundant and generous still. You paint the clouds the colour of opening and you do not give up on shedding light even when it’s heavy.

“The truth is” by Julia in the fishbowl

Tuesday January 28, 2020
9:33am
5 minutes
Pea Madness
Amy Leach

The truth is you’re the one for me
the good love the right kind of open
I could talk to you all day
I could listen to you all night
I want you and you and you and you

The truth is when I wasn’t sure it
wasn’t because of you it was me
When I wondered at the possibility
of something else or different or new
it was because I couldn’t see what
was already waiting at the window sill

The truth is I choose you now but I
have always found a way to your door
I have always had you in the cup of
my hand, the spine of every notebook
and you are so good it’s like I wrote
you this way

But I could not invent this home of
being and the truth is, you have always
been this way
You have always been this kind of love

“The day care lies at the base of an oak tree” by Julia in the fishbowl

Monday January 27, 2020
2:39pm
5 minutes
Gods at Play
Susanne Antonetta

Darling dear is playing at the base of the oak tree, the sweet light is blooming. I wait for her to tell me something is wrong. I see it in her
walk, the way she deflates every step, hunching. I watch her from the
kitchen window, taking note of her little sighs, her clenched fists, her
opinion growing stronger. Sweet light.

I don’t want to ask her because I want her to know what the sensation
feels like. I don’t want to say the words explicitly. Because maybe I’m
jumping to conclusions. Maybe this is how she inhales this life and it’s
different than what I would expect.

All I can do is hold her in the space I give and open my heart to her so
she knows that if she needs to say something she can. I can ask her how
she is without a qualifier. Without a word with connotation or implication.

She is running her fingertips around the trunk of the tree. She is slowly
circling it, her eyes closed and drawn into the bark.

“Instead, the deer step carefully” By Julia at her table desk

Saturday January 25, 2020
6:04pm
5 minutes
The Return
Rick Bass

So if it’s a game about strategy I don’t really want to play.
I know the word is ‘game’, and not ‘real life’ but there is nothing fun sounding about revealing myself while other people around me skillfully craft their turn.
I don’t think it’s because I have no strategy. You could check my track record and I’m sure there would be occasions where I’ve enlisted my tactical thinking, but this feels different. Like parallel parking in front of a bunch of race-car drivers when you haven’t practiced since getting your G licence back in 2003.
I get nervous that people will find me out and consider my IQ lower than they expected since I usually conduct myself with clever quips and strong insights.
I don’t need people seeing that I crack under pressure and would therefore be the first one voted off the island.
It all comes down to purpose.
I don’t want to be useless in a time of need. When people are all out there trying to survive and keep the team alive, I want to be a valuable member of the team, not the one they use as sustenance after they decide to roast my flesh and eat my senseless brains.

“I find myself feeling” by Julia in her skirt

Friday January 24, 2020
6:40pm
5 minutes
Gathering Indigo
Algeria Jensen

full is the word
full comes to mind

busy is a thing I no longer say
saying busy is an incantation for whatever the opposite of gratitude is

full is what I feel and great
great
full

my days start early and roll late
my nights have questions and low lights and some anxiety about what’s coming down the pipe tomorrow but they end with kisses and affirmations and tight squeezes

so I sleep well
I have dreams but I sleep well

I sleep all the way and then some and then some not

I start when I convince myself I best
I still need to convince myself I best

I lay on the mat with the low light
I stretch the night away and say today I am expanding

I write a lot of words down and then I go into the outside world feeling full

feeling full and full and full
feeling full and happy

“No one knows what the” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday January 21, 2020
2:02pm
5 minutes
Lost Dog Creek
Brian Doyle

Don’t call me Dottie, only my lover calls me that. It’s Dorothy to you, and I will stand by it. No one knows what the reason is and that’s because it’s just none of your business. I’m supposed to be a lady, is that right? I’m supposed to follow some invisible set of pre-determined rules made for me by whom? Men? I won’t give you the pleasure of thinking you’ve had me beat. I don’t follow rules no matter who sets them, I play my own game. If you knew me, you would know that I stay true to my word, but you don’t so you won’t ever get that great luxury.

I’m a damned good friend, I’m loyal as they come, and I’m a lion when I need to be–and sometimes just because! If I were man would you be waiting for an explanation? If you didn’t have your own set of preconceived and limiting notions would you be expecting anything at all? I don’t care if you don’t think me sweet, or nice. In fact! I’d prefer it. I don’t like those silly labels, some sort of map that I’m supposed to study to know which place to head, left or right or, let’s be honest, back back backwards.

If you knew me, which you don’t, you would know how lucky you really are.

“Still later she folded into herself,” by Julia at her desk

Monday January 20, 2020
12:42pm
5 minutes
Peaches
Marion Winik

It was blue Monday (a blue blue Monday). It was raining (not outside). It was a couch calling her name, it was a blanket taking him hostage. It was blue.

Blue like the ice cube sitting on her chest (jagged, sharp). Blue like the jeans warn to shreds without ever being washed (why bother). Why bother?

Try and persuade a block to melt, try and switch the light on to fix. Should we?

….

It was a blue Monday and the rest of it coloured the same (the months, the memories).

It was enough for him to sink back into his shiver (blanket or not, go figure) and even after the warm soup, she still folded into herself (folding, folding).

It was raining (inside, outside, beside). It was blue. It was blue for every single one of them.

“I find the result” by Julia in her office

Thursday January 16, 2020
9:30am
5 minutes
From a quote by Mark Twain

The result of staring into the window of other people’s stories is that it’s a window. Not a door. You can look all you want, but there’s a connection that calls you at the bottom of that longing, and looking isn’t enough. We think it’s enough, and sometimes, sure, it is, but when we want to see others and be seen, we don’t mean ‘what they’re doing’ or ‘what they had for brunch’. We want to see the hearts, the human underneath the facade, the spirit underneath the human.
This is because we have gotten good at believing that it’s the quickest way, the easiest way to bridge the gap, cross the ravine, is to log in, put our feet up and watch other people live their lives. We think this because it resembles a bonding, a gathering, but it’s not all the way there. We don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore. Or we know, and we ignore it. Or we don’t care, and what is worse, my friends. My ‘friends’, my ‘likes’, my online bubble of bursting potential…
The window is not a door.

“They are noble who” by Julia on her couch

Wednesday January 15, 2020
8:08pm
5 minutes
From a quote by the Buddha

breathe deeply
that’s the only requirement here
place your hand on your belly and feel if it’s expanding
and if it’s landing you are one of the noble few

who want to get to the heart of the matter
and won’t run away if things start to shatter

Maybe there’s one more that I missed
anyone who happens to notice that they’re breathing
when they’re breathing and if it’s deeply
then they are the noble who

Pay attention and move on through
as if this was the only moment that counted
here and now there’s nothing found that proves this is how
but someway it proves this somehow

Breathe into the corners of a dusty room
breathe into the midnight and the afternoon
breathe into the creaky floor board or the bones
breathe into the hips and the home alones

breathe first and foremost
and be noble
even if it takes some reminding

“What the heck is going on” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday January 14, 2020
9:29pm
5 minutes
from a text message

It’s a lapse of confidence, it’s leaving the body
the confidence comes and leaves, lapses as it pleases
and it is not pleasing to be around someone who cannot keep feet firmly planted on the ground
at the arrival of any increasing winds

When it leaves it startles first the body then the mind then everyone around the body and the mind
and this whole thing begs the question, “what the heck is going on?” When a moment ago
there wasn’t this much snow and the sights far off were clear. When just earlier today
you heard yourself say how much easier problem solving had gotten…

Now what the heck is going on when the body leaks precious esteem? Is there a hole? Is there a hole
in the armour or in the body itself? Or has it always been draining like this, slowly, and for no reason?

“what about his own sex life?” by Julia on her couch

Sunday January 12, 2020
5:43pm
5 minutes
Elbowing The Seducer
T. Gertler

He spends his days watching porn
Not nights, not worse
His knees find a bend the way his ass finds a chair
the way he’s seen it done in badly-lit office sets
he can jack off to anything at this point
but doesn’t he stay looking, stay open, scroll, scroll
and isn’t that now part of it?
The decision to do it is inside and not buried, the content
a hot net filled with endless possibilities, every day the internet doubles in size
and anything you can think of is online, but what if he can’t think anymore on his own?
Scrolls and scrolls and until the webpage tells him the scene he wants to watch,
the scene he didn’t know he was fantasizing about, and now it’s not just for him
It’s not just him and the screen, but the scene thought out by other people,
given to him as a replacement for his own imagination

When he closes his eyes, he does not picture people
or women
or people
he sees the roll of the die, the happenstance so easily come by
he can’t come by himself
and isn’t that the hard part, the hardest part giving up the control of the fantasy generator
to someone who lives on the internet
giving ideas to anyone interested

“The insufferable arrogance of humanity” by Julia on her couch

Friday January 10, 2020
8:08pm
5 minutes
Big Picture
A. Whitney Brown

Babe says that he doesn’t trust people anymore, cause they like, wear their MO a little too loud. Like Babe says that you can smell some people’s try-hard like they bathe in it and that is so relatable. Like, think about it. You can tell when someone’s trying to like, butter you up, or get in your pants, or like, get you to smuggle some low grade shit. And you can tell when someone’s like performing instead of being. There’s a really big difference actually, and Babe says the insufferable people are the ones who name drop and shame shop. Babe says that shame shopping is like, who’s buying, you know? Like who’s trying to be better by taking on all the bullshit of the known world as if they could carry it on their own?

“The fires were still smouldering” by Julia on her couch

Thursday January 9, 2020
11:33am
5 minutes
The Known World
Edward P. Jones

The haze we’re breathing is a filter on the known world.
The daily dos and don’ts.
The run and hide or stay lows.

Babies are inhaling against their will.
Animals are being wiped out.

Some people don’t think the issue is connected.
Some people would rather focus on the strength
of the inhabitants being weakened.

Will the dying lungs be as resilient?
Will the buried come back to stand on their country’s podium?

While we’re gathered on the beach with our
hearts in our mouths
covered in ash and soot
inching closer to the waves
a long siren blares.

We wish we could say it was in the distance.
We wish we could say it was only one
and not one after another after another.

We are accepting prayers
and money
and help
and
and
and

“How far your eyes may pierce” by Julia on the plane

Monday January 6, 2020
12:55pm EST
5 minutes
King Lear
Shakespeare

And still a river bleeds out the secret, close enough to the house babble babble

Who hushes the mouth spilling and if we can is it now?

Now that we have decided to leave tired skin on the ground for its new job

A spread on the earth and nurture the rest of the ecosystem
Like a fallen tree might
Like a called soul can

The water waits reflecting and there is not a chance for seeing the wrong thing
It does not lie
The deer does not get spooked

We unravel at the sorry bone and spin out out, babble babble
into a good home being built
into foundation strengthening

The river sings it out if we leave it up to her

And we do
We leave it up to her

“In the diary she kept” by Julia on Howland

Sunday January 5, 2020
9:55pm
5 minutes
Sabbath 
Wayne Muller

Mindy Lou kept her diary blue, locked with a prayer and a warning

“Open this and the devil will kiss you all the way to hell and back again”

She wrote from her truest heart, and nobody could part the seas she stirred and roared on

“This book is protected by none other than Jesus Christ and if you want to know deep suffering, turn the page, I double dog dare you”

For inside she stored her secrets, her bashful cheeks, and quiet rumblings

“women simply take better care of themselves” by Julia in Baden

Thursday January 2, 2020
12:01am
5 minutes
The Compass In Your Nose
Marc McCutcheon

my mother knows the cure for whatever ails me

she sends photos of pages from the best books on how to heal without lies

I am indebted to her for every phone call lesson or reminder that I am worth taking expensive suppliments

funny after all this time of telling her about loving herself enough to allow healing

she is me and I am her and this is not a contest

the mirror is held up in turns, sometimes her holding it and sometimes me

when my father falls ill she nurses him from the flat of his bed onto his feet in 3 days or your money back

she says it’s easier to get better when you have someone reminding you when to take your vitamins

“brought their wives and children” by Julia in Baden

Wednesday January 1, 2020
12:07am
5 minutes
The Trial of Louis Riel
George R.D. Goulet

lingering behind the red door
Dottie clutches a tattered handkerchief to her mouth to keep from crying out

the demons were in there, shaking

Dottie isn’t finding the deeper cause but knows she needs them gone

like that time she was drugged at the bar, an unmarked capsule fizzing in her drink, and a tiny girl suffering, needing her

She looked herself in the mirror and said it over and over again, rebuking, encouraging-
“You must” she said, “you must. You Must.”

“Look to the notes, if you need to” by Julia at Amanda’s

Tuesday December 31, 2019
2:40am
5 minutes
How To Read Music
Roger Evans

In the same place as I have been
There is a good chance I could have been smaller

If not for the noticing I would be spending my time intellectualizing
But not this year, no, no

I will be looking to the notes if I need to and when that’s not making sense I will let the interruption be the new

The prompt
The passage

And then maybe I will do something that you could be a strong bear about

That you could write home to your parents for and tell them of the giant steps taken from such tiny feet

“walk-in counselling clinic” by Julia on the Megabus

Friday December 27, 2019
9:35am
5 minutes
from a sign

Devra puts on her new lace cardigan. New to her, hand me down from Aunt Mary’s kids. Yesterday she went through the big garbage bag of the no-longer wanted/fitting and managed to find one item. The coral cardigan was the only thing that didn’t instantly turn her into a baby doll. Aunt Mary’s kids were young. Devra could fit into the tights but she didn’t feel proud to be wearing a 12 year old’s stuff.

She pats her face dry after washing with the new rose-water cleanser she got for Christmas and looks herself in the mirror. “Today’s a good day for it.” She says to herself.

“Ice on the sidewalk” by Julia in Joe’s childhood room

Tuesday December 24, 2019
12:02pm
5 minutes
Or Death and December
George Garrett

This city is colder than the one we left. I haven’t missed the rain once. Not in my life, even during the draught. When we left the first time coming back was like a time stamp on where we had been and how much we’ve learned. Seeing the CN Tower used to make me cry. Every street is a buzz. There are people out and about, wearing layers, walking slowly on the icy sidewalk. Back home, I guess we’re calling it that now, the cold was welcome when it came. It wasn’t too much or too hard. Not for someone born to a cold far harsher.

I don’t have the right gear for this city. Been known to keep a parka around just in case but the reality of this no longer being my home has finally sunk in. Why keep a coat around when you live in a place that doesn’t need it.

“The judge sighs.” By Julia at the airport

Monday December 23, 2019
2:57pm
5 minutes
At the Arraignment
Debra Spencer

Being vegetarian doesn’t necessarily mean healthy. I’ve seen vegans live off of oreos and french fries. I’m not judging that, I’m fine with it. What do I care if someone wants to do sugar for beeakfast lunch and dinner. Some people are more than their label, is what I’m saying. There are also feminists who want to kill all the men. They say they’re for equality but they have some unresolved anger too. The name isn’t cut and dry just like it’s not fair to say that every indigenous person opposes the pipeline. That’s simply untrue. And racist, isn’t it? To group people together without asking individuals how they feel?

“The lunatic is carried” by Julia on her couch

Sunday December 22, 2019
9:28pm
5 minutes
Song of Myself
Walt Whitman

From the last word to the first idea, she is there

she waits for me to slip up so she has a reason to come out and say I Told You So

Of course she sings sweetly too, never yelling or threatening or causing a scene out of turn

It’s as if she were playing some game, some twisted little diddy that she knew she was doing

I carry the lunatic out of the box and into the day

I carry her on my back and let her see everything that I’m seeing

You could say I let her stay because I am a bit afaid of her and what she might do if I don’t give her what she wants

I suppose I am the one to blame afterall for giving her the front row seat to my weakness

“The plastic statue of the virgin” by Julia in her office

Friday December 20, 2019
9:57am
5 minutes
The Alter
Charles Simic

Nonna carried the Vigrin Mother in her purse, and had one on her shelf, and one in a drawer under her nightstand. Nonna believed. Prayed. Maybe mostly felt guilty, but man was she a determined attendee of the smallest church you ever saw. Every Wednesday night and Saturday night and Sunday morning. Any chance to wear those pearls, get your hair pinned into fresh curls and to walk around getting told how beautiful you are. I am her nipote from the root. I got her church singing voice, her need for validation, her sweet affinity with entertaining babies. It’s been a few years, have we already lost count? She is missed beyond her faith or what we can make little jokes about today. She was always folding my underwear into perfect squares. Always sneaking us a twonie while telling us not to tell our parents cause they’d make us give them back. She believed in more than I ever have.

“Timing’s everything.” by Julia in her office

Thursday December 19, 2019
3:50pm
5 minutes
Snowflake
William Baer

If you sit there long enough the right people will come by
I don’t know if that’s the way it always works
but that was my today…

So I’m sitting there, minding my own business, writing out some things with the hope of manifestation, and along comes Pauly.

He’s on his way home or so it looks like, but he stops directly in front of my door. Okay I need to scratch something and reverse it. The manifesting part kind of needs to be revisited. So I’m not going to tell you what I was writing, but I will tell you that because I was writing it, that’s why Pauly came along.
It wasn’t about him necessarily, but he was the one who gave me the idea to write it. So this manifestation thing appears to be working for any of you cynics outs there, reading “You There, Behind Your Screens!”

So Pauly came by and I learned a couple more things about him. It was subtly. Nuanced. For instance. I now know he is a film buff. And a bit of a nerd.

“There below” by Julia on her couch

Wednesday December 18, 2019
7:47pm
5 minutes
Somewhere I’ll Find You
Phebe Hanson

There below the golden face

The shoulders broad and carrying

a tiny intersection of disbelief is straddled

Right there

Right below the knowing look

And maybe it wouldn’t be there

if instead of fuzz a master’s cap

sat collecting

Or another 5 years at least of hands on, on the field, trial and error

Maybe this is the error

Maybe this is the error

The time for mistakes and making

I told them that’s what I’m interested in doing

I told them that’s why I get so moved

The mantra is for everyone now

Make a mess

Make

Make

Make a mess

Nothing is not something I can allow myself to make

Not these days when young hearts find themselves on my cozy chair

Calling my room the Creative one

“I am so amazed to find myself kissing you” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday December 17, 2019
9:29pm
5 minutes
Feasting
Elizabeth W. Garber

I find your mouth there in the open like a winter song
the snow flakes landing on the tip of your lips and the cold
mixes with the hot
and the slippery touches the soft
Maybe people before have told you how superior your kiss is
because you kiss like you already know and that you like knowing

I am prancing around like some February fairy and you think
maybe, it’s cute
This is my hope, that you will be forced to kiss me with all
that sparkly dusty floating around

Before this I have kissed you plenty
And each time I think the same thing
I can’t believe I am the lucky recipient of this
hot mouth opening and closing so artfully

“because it was the only job” by Julia in her office

Monday December 16, 2019
2:53pm
5 minutes
The con job
Charles Bukowski

keep your coat on
no don’t tell them it’s because you’re shivering past the bone
or because your skin has thinned over the last few days
or that it’s the only thing that keeps the ache from surfacing
Don’t tell them the weight feels like a miracle since all the pain
kept you from sleeping

Nobody will ask you what you’re doing
don’t tell them the truth
be a mystery
a team player
a warm thing

Be a good story
Make them wonder at you
don’t give it all away
If they ask you can mention it so they don’t linger in the doorway
so you might be honest without having to be rude
Don’t be rude
shake that option from your skull
it wants to stay but you have to let it leave

count down the minutes
33, to be exact
keep your coat on so the exit is as quick as can be
smile at them on your way
don’t let them see you too long or the red under your nose
32, ain’t nothin’ to sneeze at

When it gets good and quiet take your shoes off
move to the big chair and pull down the shade
be a good story
even on days you don’t feel like doing the telling

“The first was of Saint Gabriel” by Julia on her couch

Saturday December 14, 2019
7:53pm
5 minutes
Courtesy
Hilaire Belloc

I fell in love with the messenger. There are no addages about not kissing them, only shooting. He arrived with flowing hair and a scroll tucked under his arm. Romantic. I wanted to watch him slowly unroll it, revealing only one line at a time.
He arrived at my door like a whisper.
He was a figure from a painting, his smile a twig snapped from Paradise itself.
I thought about his mouth unfolding the news. It did not take much for me to want him, truth be told. A man bearing a letter in my name. That was all I could ever ask for.

“And the show won’t stop.” by Julia in her office

Thursday December 12, 2019
11:45am
5 minutes
Theater
William Greenway

not if you’re sick, not if you’re wondering
not if you’re late to the party or fumbling
not if you don’t want to or you think you can’t
not if the door opens or it slams
not if the weather punishes you and only you
not if the sadness turns too blue
not if the schedule says that it won’t
not if the gravel road bumps or it don’t

The show won’t stop
the show won’t wait
the show won’t pop
the show won’t wait

not if you’re tired, not if you’re confused
not if you didn’t like what’s in the news
not if you got lost or took a different route
not if you succumbed to the shadows of doubt
not if you were hungry or if you needed to sit
not if you wanted to but couldn’t make it
not if you bent down to smell the flowers
not if you stayed up until the wee hours

The show won’t pop
the show won’t wait
the show won’t stop
the show won’t wait

it has to go on
it must

“Something continues and” by Julia in her office

Wednesday December 11, 2019
3:35pm
A Birthday
W.S. Merwin

This is how it goes
I wait until I know
the answer in my bones
and then I unload
the only thing I throw
are feelings at the wall
and if a yell unfolds
I’ll hurl it in the cold

This is how it is
I hold on to my skin
and shiver underneath
the seeming arbitrary
with passions dimmed
I fight the light within
until I am destined
to do it all again

This is how it hurts
it always comes in spurts
With hope interspersed
it really could be worse
but nothing cures the curse
like a living breath first
and if I am not sure
then I will become more terse

This is how it is
how it hurts
how it goes

“I step into the cold silence.” by Julia in her office

Wednesday December 4, 2019
2:19pm
5 minutes
New Planet
Misha Penton

It feels more like an autumn day than spring, something like October keeps ringing in my ears and against them.

A resistance here, a noticing. These two have never come together before.
And now in my bigger boots I can sense the weighted thought and it is attached to me.

The breeze whisks the hair around my face into a halo of buzzing. I cannot pretend I do not ache for sunny days, but this, this aliveness is more than
I thought I would know.

The air around me is still and I can hear a quiet humming.
I listen and find grace in the willingness to acknowledge.

It’s not hunger, it’s not sleep, but grief collected.
And here I count the withered leaves, one and two and three upon the ground.

It feels more…

“the deity manifest” by Julia in her office

Wednesday November 27, 2019
11:21am
5 minutes
Egyptian Mythology
Geraldine Pingh

she sometimes feels far away
as in not in this body at all
as in on vacation where she
gets to rest and be taken care of

she doesn’t live in the skin
if the skin doesn’t warm her
or if the bones shake too much

nobody wants to stay in a house
that rattles when the winds come
when the weather changes even
slightly

sometimes, today, right now
she is away away laying low
and breathing slow and she is
not questioning the sand

she is said to be within
but I don’t think that’s how
it works when the body threatens
the spirit by being so sad
as in not in the room
as in not feeling the floor

she comes and goes and I believe
she wants to stay but when there
is such a deep unknowing she does
what’s best for herself

she does not stay where she is not
wanted when she is smart enough to name it

she will check in every now and then
but if the conditions aren’t worth it
she doesn’t have to think twice about
the door

“along with some common words” by Julia in her office

Tuesday November 26, 2019
11:59am
5 minutes
How To Read Egyptian
Mark Collier & Bill Manley

We’ve got more to say and some of the words aren’t respected here. Here. I’m saying that with a slant. In. Italics. Get it? It’s a head nod and it’s sarcasm, and great now it is the reason why some people say some. Female. comedians aren’t always. Funny. Because they. Always. explain the joke. I still hate that sentiment, but I. See. Now. See?
Along with some common words, there are a whole slew of swears and shares but again, it’s the. Place. That’s important to consider. Sometimes the right word in the wrong place makes it the wrong word. Well, no, actually, more than that. Now it’s not the wrong. Word. But the wrong. Thing. And isn’t that worse, or, isn’t that. The Worst? I could be putting all of this in italics for real but then the people looking to decide if things are wrong or not are going to have an easier time and I’ll be honest, I am not interested in helping the word/thing/thought/idea police. We should call them thieves. That’s more. Appropriate.

“niches of great magnitude” by Julia at St. John’s School

Monday November 25, 2019
2:20pm
5 minutes
At the Mountains of Madness
H.P. Lovecraft

When one is loved, OKAY REALLY LOVED
bam bam bang bang whoopty doopty yes and yes and yes,
then that same one, that same gooey ooey loved up one that
was previously, what, right, yeah yeah yeah, loved but not really,
right? Cause we never ever know the magnitude when we’re feeling
low down down down woah all the way down to the bottom without
a buoy to cling to no sirree no sirs
no misses no no no none of it.
Previously unloved, not outside, but inside, the one wasn’t doing any self love and that’s the way to feel the outside love you gotta know, you gotta know that now.
And when they are previously unloved or so they think
and so they believe then it all seems the same
and grey and tiring and god awful.
That’s the way it was
so the way it is when there is LOVE
all that gigantic love, the right kind of love
that you can believe in between your toes and know
how far down it reaches even if you can’t see
it cause it lives there always pulsing pulsing through
you, in you, right, in you.
The way it is with all that gigantic love, and get this,
you’re gonna laugh, stay with me, don’t fall over!
Is the smallest of spaces.
You feel tucked in, you know? You feel like you’re
sleeping in the palm of a walnut shell.

“Don’t let the exclamation point fool you.” by Julia at her desk

Sunday November 24, 2019
5:27pm
5 minutes
from an Instagram post

Not Happy. Not thrilled. Not at all okay.
Okay? Get it? The question mark is rhetorical.
Don’t answer that. Read the room, you know?
you know. Not happy. Not thrilled. Not great.
Could it be about passion, hmm? Could it be
anger? DO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU THE VOLUME or does
the rage fall flat when all you see is the blasted !! !!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I see how you can get it twisted.
Good liar. Good at feeling the thing but not in front of anyone.
Not good at hiding the feeling, but excellent at lying about it.
That’s even worse, now you know, now you know, but you’ll say
you don’t if you see the s m i l e !
See? SEE? SEE?! All different.
I am all different and all angry and all the opposite of okay.
Not thrilled. Not happy. Happy during rage but not about the rage
that now I feel because of you not being able to read the room.
The rhetorical question. Don’t answer that. No question mark.
Not an invitation. Not something for you to hang your dumb old hat on.
See the rage, feel the not okay now?
See what’s being tossed around?
Don’t let that shit fool you.
Don’t be so naive out of convenience.
Who is fine anyway.
Who is ever fine ANYWAY.

“You are going to have to give and give and give”

Wednesday November 20, 2019
9:41pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Anne Lamott

What you want to say is the truth.
And you don’t know who’s reading this now after all the times you’ve talked about it.
Here’s a place where you do what you do and then afterwards another thing. A new thing.
A new.
What do you want them to know?
How ready you are? How sure?
Or the thing that scares you more.
How desperately you want to be a part of the ecosystem and how afraid you are that it might take more than a day.
How you want nothing more than for them to hold you useful, for them to know you good.
Is this where you tell them you’re ready but you give a damn so you feel shaky behind the eyes?
Is this where you say that you asked for them and the universe was good to you and gave you what you needed?
When do you tell them the truth?
That you don’t know everything and that you’re willing to learn?
That this whole thing is messy but you’d rather spoil your shirt than sit around waiting.
You are going to have to give and give and give some more.
But you are going to have to receive some too.
You’re going to have to fill up on what they have to offer.
You’re going to have to let them evolve your heart and your hands and your mind and your soul.
That’s the fear. That you will be different.
But I promise you that you will able to handle that.
You have always done this.
You have always found a way.

“There are moments when art attains” by Julia on her couch

Saturday November 16, 2019
9:27pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Oscar Wilde

it’s the here, the now, the paint contained by canvas,
the wall oozing imagination, the hallway singing, the contemplative violin cloaking everything in sadness. it’s the heart of an artist, the pulse of an entrepreneur hoping to convince you that this feeling needs you as much as you need it. it’s that circle of friends who gather around the experimental, who bring their dogs to wag their tails, who sit there listening to the latest thing this artist is obsessed with.