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Vacation by Holly

4/28/2021

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Vacation. Terminal, security, fly, wait, movies, land. Excited, disorientated, reunited, tired, hotel, bad dinner.  Seattle, pike market, space needle, pop culture museum, Farris wheel, Ferry, Fish, tango. Dispensary for every type of pokololo high.  Mellow, energetic, fun, philosophical, light, heavy, you name it, they got it! Buy cheap pre-rolled, buds, edibles, CBD, oils, Vaupes. Try: True Humboldt, Pioneer nuggets, Blues dream, Purple punch, afghan haze, birthday cake, weedseedsexpress, greenrush. Full of young, good looking, eager, animated, enthusiastic, stoned sellers. This must be a dream.
Gay pride parade, rainbow colors, face paint, flags, motorcycles, floats, marching bands, babies, lovers, breasts displayed wherever you turn.
Dungeness: cool ocean view, spit, deer everywhere, one in yard I named Pono, Alan called “Lunch”.  Hurricane ridge, majestic mountains, say hello to Canada, Green, cool, wet, trees, ferns, moss, rivers, lakes, wild beaches, long hikes down winding trails, streams, waterfalls, log bridges, squatting to pee in the bushes, careful to miss my legs and feet.
I resist uphill trail with no seeming finish and little drinking water.  Alan plays don’t worry be happy. I put my hands on giant trees, greeting them,  trying to soak in their mana.
Ruby beach with Tide pools full of starfish, muscles, Anemones, Sea urchins, barnacles.
Indian reservations, Driving, singing, stories, moving, unpacking, packing, shopping, eating, playing lotto, smoking dobbies, exploring. Sleeping naked next to skinny furry man. Cuddling, kisses, sex, rest. Repeat as necessary. Cottage by beach, bed and breakfast, townhouse, lake resorts. Negotiation, laughter, tension. Massage, hot springs, firework display. Forks, Twilight films; look Vampires!
Billboard signs tell where to get guns, get cremated, eat dinner. RVs on the road, in yards, in parks, for sale, for rent, for fun.
Pic nic lunch p-nut butter, butter, honey, blue berry sandwiches, thin pretzels, dips, chocolate, delious! Last night Room with lake view, 2 queen beds, sleep in one.  Sad trip is ending, just getting good at traveling together. Long drive to airport, separation, each of us visiting family. Good-bye love, good-bye vacation.

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I remember Love by Ivy

4/13/2021

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At the end of the night I always go home. We drink like boys but hold our glasses like ladies. Don’t make me butternut squash soup. I’ll take the steak. Plates are left dirty. Forks licked clean. We show each other our teeth. Bars stools are made to swivel not steal. Candle flickers messages on the hallway wall. I remember love.
I don’t know the names of flowers. Taking in the heroin effect of a good long pee. Cocaine hides in my front pocket. My thighs are strong. My nose is wet. My eyes glassy and wandering. The bartender talks like a pick pocketer. I don’t know where I parked my car. I remember love.
French patterns mix up the mind. Paintings are for sprinting by. Brown covers the walls and door. Rooms can’t be rented for that amount of time. A girl wears a cowboy hat and red boots. I remember love.
All the booze has been drunk. A kiss ends the dancing. The bar closes. I hug the line and go home. Then I hug the bathroom tile. I remember love.
There are flashes of laughter and red lips. Endless stories of someone else's life. A long blond hair on my forearm. Her perfume stuck in my nose. The tile is damp with 3 drops of tears. Laying in a circle between my fingers. That’s where I keep them. I remember love.
Pictures never stay framed. Weed grows in pots on patios. Knees are meant to hurt. I flush my dinner down the toilet. I remember love.
There’s a map that takes me to the bedroom. Sheets mess up my hair. I wish I had a glass of water. The dreams come but they’re always real. Trains move faster when I’m tired. Art gets in the way. A handstand turns into push-ups. There’s more than one way to wear a dress. Don’t try playing the record backwards. We can never be friends. Close my eyes again. I can’t see to the end of the night. I remember love.
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The Plover, the Owl and the Mynas by Scott

4/12/2021

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I asked the plover why she comes back to this same spot. It’s not special, just special to her. It’s her spot. She packs her bags carefully with her favorite handkerchief. 
I asked the owl why does she screech at this particular time. The moment isn’t special, just special to her. It’s her moment.  She sharpens her best knife and it glints in the moonlight. 
I ask the mynahs why they all gather in this tree at dusk and tell their stories of the day. It’s not special, just special to them. It’s their tree. They pick out their most colorful marbles and knock them all against each other. 
The plover’s handkerchief is embroidered with heather and frost. 
The owl’s knife handle is carved in the shape of silence.
The mynah’s marbles are agates cut out of an ancient cathedral, where thick cloth covers the hard cold stone pews. 

The sunlight comes into the stained glass windows there from the south, the colors of Easter eggs. 
The basket full of spring blossoms is loose, they fall through the holes in the weave and spill over, like a crowded bird bath. 
The flowers have dew or misty rain on their fresh petals, their fragrance permeates under the feathers. 

The plover says, I wipe away your tears and dry them in the bright sun.
The owl says, I cut away your fears and hide them in the night sky.
The mynahs say, we play because we can. 

Three coins twirl and sparkle down, and fall in three unbroken lines of heaven.  
They tell the fortune of long distance travelers and give guidance for decisions yet unmade. 
Several unspoken things remain behind, and rest their heads on downy pillows.

The evening is still, a bass beat drifts in from the distance with muffled sounds of celebration: a birthday, a wedding, a funeral. 

The plover says it is so far away.
The owl says they should be quiet now.
The mynahs want to go. 

Colorful socks were once given by the sister far away.
Perhaps drawing a warm bath would relieve the cold toes. 
Or a cup of tea with herbs her daughter wildcrafted. 

Yet the socks are folded in the drawer, the tub is empty, and the herbs still grow.

The plover says it’s time to go.
The owl says it’s here to stay.
The mynahs just laugh and tell their stories of the day.
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