Heart ( and ) Hearted

Distance and time pull;
like limbs from dying trees, like
weaving streams, like seams.

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Heart ( and ) Hearted

Below(,) Mountains of Molehills

In a lie, I’m stuck beneath a rock. I’m watching earth move and counting the cold and warm seasons. In truth, I’m atop the rock watching burning life, often wishing I was beneath.

Sometimes thought moves slow
It drags in thick molasses
Like a candle burning

Sometimes life thunders
Claps loudly with little warn
Like a broomstick falls

In a few months, I’ll call San Diego, California home for a few months. Life is constantly more comfortable than it was. And lucrative. I’m building a life with created chaos.

Below me, a soft,
pillowy thing. Above, else.
I am terrified.

Love is strange and open and true. Though it confounds us both often. We’re making strides in each other and ourselves and looking forward to big things. I think we’ve chosen wisely.

Clementine, she loves
and I’m learning to accept
She is my best thing.

Below(,) Mountains of Molehills

Guest Submission – “Some Words”

by Jordan Reed

(not a haiku, still good)

The first thing I thought was “who in the hell gives a fuck about the migration patterns of Canadian Geese?!” And, the sad thing is, there’s, at least, 1 person who does, and she’s unrealistically excited because she now has a little over over an hour (a baker’s hour) to fill our heads with useless information that, I’m sure, we’re all going to actively purge. Her old, stained sweater, it looks like a pair of pre-distressed jeans, or a dumbass hat with a dumbass ripped brim, or something else that’s old, or the bottom corners of a couch of a cat owner, or the tattered jeans of that sexually ambiguous goth kid who sits a few rows down from me who ALWAYS smells like a shitty candle, or something else that should’ve been thrown out years ago, or something else that’s old. This is her time to shine. I’m usually a really nice guy.

Guest Submission – “Some Words”

Weekly Writing Challenge – Colors of Never Leaves

COLLABORATION by Amy Dunlap and Alex Burgoyne

Hot, not as red, just
above warm. In my belly
and my toes and nose.

A little bit uneven.
A little bit intriguing.

Hot, er than orange.
In my eyes and my head and
in my heart. Engulfs.

Glows.
Knows.

Wincing the night away.
I get knocked down, sun gets me
up again, again.

Her hair and my teeth.
My tack and her tea.

Weekly Writing Challenge – Colors of Never Leaves

Love is Material and Tragic or I’m Lost in What I Ought OR “Guarding the Person”: an ode to Vonnegut

“I’d like to be not
what I am, but I am not
what I’m not. Marriage.”

“The truth is, money
is a foe. I want to have
it, not look like it.”

“Love with a man whom
I don’t really know. Death and
all things here to there.”

Love is Material and Tragic or I’m Lost in What I Ought OR “Guarding the Person”: an ode to Vonnegut