May 9, 2018 — written with eyes closed


Blinded – TJ Belfiore

and i wondered if i'd ever feel another coastal wind,
i once had a good friend,
perhaps the best i've ever had,
and if i ever seem to be alone,
know it's only one part of me,
not every quarter-tone,
i'm blind to your emotions,
and the smoke from the locomotive,
takes me back to you.

Blind – Hilary Tellesen

The night wrapped it’s darkness around my neck like a snake

I couldn’t sleep or eat

I just rolled around in what felt like an endless circle

It felt like that oen time when I was in the ocean…it wasn’t one time…seemed to happen with a an unpredictable repetiveness right when I least expected it….I would be playing in the waves and a wave would hit me and knock me over, deep enough in that I would be fun fully submerged and I wouldn’t be able to tell up from down and my face would crack against the sand and fear would sure into my screaming lungs. It felt like that not sex not a cuddle a drwoning circle of my own making

When I wake and it is over I still feel its edge a place I could easily slip into again when my eyes get heavy when I lose any sense of diligence.

Go Boom – Evin Wolverton

time unspools like loose thread in
a hot white window before impact
my ears on the top of my head
my throat flown and choked
locked tires pirouette on ice – sock feet on a gym floor
gentle hug of the snowbank
arms locked, helpless
sting of upholstery burying fingers in black rubber grooves
river whispering softly
smeared yellow yolk stains in forest snow
where my eggs flung from a torn off trunk
tension between us like piano wires overstretched
a single word might snap
jagged raw plastic up my nose
stomach accid pooled under tongue
feet. remember yourselves

Blind – Hannah Neil

For all the lack-of-spacial-awareness catastrophes,
Favorite sweatshirts dipped in wet paint,
Staining new constellations on my kneecaps,
I am pleased to be paying rent
GiolBuilding my nest
Compounding bruised ribs and multidimensional echolocation
F For this is where we find refuge,
When the weight of omnipotentcy and
Ouour few stolen moments exist only in the firmament anyway,
Let us hoist our lover’s sails and traverse the cosmic expanse
So that even for a moment
The slightest brush
‘Can guide us back to wehere we belong in each other.

Pocket Blinds – Kate Wright

Shake chocolate into palm
of skinny bin hand
scrabble pockets
were built for
holding on
pockets aren’t for feathers
or deceased

pockets are the active treasure chest
ready to assist the day
you can forget and remember
not stow away a deep grief or yearning
to be kept at bay
in a countless sea of passing moments
into forgotten waves
for blind hands that are always reaching
for keeping somethings
closer than other things

marbles mumbles things that are hard to put a lid or handle on
numbers and slips of paper
that smile at you when you open them up
at noon with coffee
at night taking your car keys out
the fright of where did it go
the drop stomach
I lost it
I did that again
pick your pocket
pick your niche

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