Untitled Riff by JW

after JH's Untitled

lust and
a ring
i realise
(washing
dishes
in the sink)

a ring
and a
circumstance
and a
lust and a
circumstance

lust
circumstance
washing
sink

i sink
the dishes
and leave

In Limbo, If Pleasantly by Robert M Keefe

The bag lady with the paper bag full of paperbacks stands indecisive at the coffee shop counter. I know that feeling.

SwedeX + 5 by Robert M Keefe

After Untitled by JH

washing the organ of speech i realize
kitchen-refuse and affection
leave a curl in the discount-rate

(key: tallrik - talorgan, kättja - köksavfall, omständighet - onatur, ring - ringla, diskho - diskonto)

Not a word by Justine el-Khazen

After Alone, they are a-maze (by JKD), Everyone's having children now by Jonathan Regier, and Everyday Includes Today by Lisa Pasold.


Magnets are the maps,
world smoothed over:
things that settle beyond the GPS.

An aeroplane arrives,
and it’s all over.

Mourning and noon agree blankly.
Night and the numbers:
10, 9, 7, 8.

Blood of the children,
black and level.
Vines map the body
in thick braids and ladders
of blood,
of blood

(children included).

A bridegroom opens the door.

Alone, they are a-maze (by JKD)

After Everyone's having children now by Jonathan Regier, and Everyday Includes Today by Lisa Pasold.

A bridegroom throws open the doors:
playing in the soil, mourning noon and night,
The madcap flatterer’s leafing through the butterflies.
A cup, a paper doily, the fix-it maman
cannot quite re-stitch the happy couple back together.
You listen in closely, you can hear the whispers:
Where has she gone? And, hence, to Mexico!
We clink our glasses with everyone’s children—
or vines. And then it is we begin to agree blankly:
Finland is a fine place to be if you are finicky. Or nimble.
He will drink his exquisite coffee though the dogs bark
and not say a word about the magnets
soaking in their blood, or the hemlock she’s just plucked.
Sympathies? Whichever happens to come before 8am.
I say it will all be fine again. The world smoothed over.
Just wait or shake it a little bit.
Scraps of blown papers settle beyond the GPS.
But at 9 o'clock, when you think it’s all over, I hear him say:
I suppose I should have tagged her. An aeroplane arrives.
Will you sit a little while longer before you shimmer?

every day includes today by lisa pasold

after Everyone's having children now... by JR

At 8 o'clock it is a maze;
At 9 o'clock, an aeroplane arrives;
At 10 o'clock all is possible; wash your grubby little hands.
There is everything to soil.
It is a few minutes after 10 o'clock.
Visit 'burn all your regrets' at
abonfireinyourbackyard.com
At 7 o'clock, none of this has happened.
At midnight, you are basking in the reflected glory
of being able to say no, I have nothing to declare, it is gone
entirely now and I am leaving on that jet plane
with my small fluffy dog.
At ten minutes after midnight, your taxi is waiting in Mexico.
Everything is possible.
The dog is barking.
Flames lick at your fingers.

I've an urge to talk to you by JW

After Laura Mullen's "I've an urge to say I miss you, but I don't know who I'm talking to." from the Bride Journal video post on her blog afterIwasdead


"I've an urge to talk to you", you say. "But Miss I, I don't know who I'm
talking to Miss... but, I've an urge too". You say: "I, I don't know who I'm
missing". I urge you to say who I am. Aye, I have to know. But don't talk
to talk. To urge. I say: "I've missed you, but I don't know who I am."

"I don't know who I am, but I've missed you", I say. To talk. To urge.
But have I? I don't know. Aye, I urge you to talk: to say who I'm missing.
"I don't know who you're missing." But I say: "I, I've an urge to talk to
I-don't-know-who Miss." And you say: "Aye, I, I've an urge to talk too."