I Go Nowhere

I Go Nowhere

By Stephanie Peirce

I go nowhere.
I enter no buildings.
After hours I enter a post office lobby wearing a mask.

A mask is no longer a metaphor,

It’s a soft thing which clings to your face like a bat.

You hear your own breathing.
Your breath builds up.

There is one woman there,
Wearing a mask,
And she stands back as far across the room as she can,
So politely,
To allow me to enter.

Then she exits the door
And I am once again all alone,

Two masked ships passing in the night.

Even if you saw someone you knew,
You’d probably not know them.

Most eye contact has ceased,
And hardly anyone seems to have combed their hair.

I touch as few surfaces as possible.

When I exit, I hold up only the two fingers I’ll be sanitizing.

“Peace,”
My hand seems to say to the world.

April 13, 2020

Indolence, an Ode

Joe Todaro

This means moments hours-long 

when one can rest upon chair of choice 

and consider the wind outdoors;

nothing like a house that’s silent 

but for its own breath, 

in late winter forced-air shimmer, 

tinnitus like cicadas under fridge murmur; 

There will be a slow hum of cars, 

of doors and stair-steps; 

a vast negotiation beyond that door. 

Here is a steaming cup of coffee, 

water bottle over the evening’s pills, 

some sheet music, a pen; 

I remember a fervor in acquiring these things 

but now they are here. 

They show us images of unrealness 

many forms; follow us 

into our tender sinews of understanding; 

foretell, depict, re-tell, repeat; 

So it is well to acknowledge the real - 

Left hand, creased, holds down 

the opposite page; 

there upon summon of these eyes.

JT 3/2020

Mutual Riverfront Park by Wendy March 2020

 

Everything is temporary

The prompt was: "You have walked into the bathroom where a stranger has scribbled lipstick on the mirror, leaving behind an important message for you and anyone following": 

-Sam T. 

I don’t usually draw but I did these this week on saved cardboard.

—Celia White

Unbound

Last week I sat in a meeting, the first held remotely for this group. It had the requisite “I can’t hear yous” and “Can you speak louders?” along with “Can you (un)mute your mic?” I was so irritated, as I am often on calls, and couldn’t fathom how so many people couldn’t figure this out! I was irritated. THEN. The last straw happened! The underwire on my bra broke and dug into the soft tissue under my ribs. 

What’s a girl to do? Whip that sucker off, jam it in a file drawer, draw your sweater around you and feel better.  Then—go on vacation/staycation, forgetting about the bra in the drawer. 

What does this have to do with positivity? Or anything? As the world has constricted, me and my free-swinging boobs have felt a bit freer. We’re moving better and thinking more clearly. You may ask, why haven’t you even looked at another bra? Well COVID-19 has decided I’m staying inside, where I have spent time with the family watching Disney movies and laughing with my two favorite people. Braless. We’ve been cooking and cleaning—without a titsling holding me back. I’ve completed tasks AND done NOTHING. Because being bra-less reminds me I have some options. One of which is to not be busy. Not to be TOO busy. 

My free swinging reminds me that I don’t need to take myself too seriously … something I have a tendency to do. That I can’t save the world, something my profession tends to make us think we can do. A reminder that my “helper” status is supposed to extend to myself as well… and usually I’m decent at this. But I had begun to push harder, trying to make up for a time when the Universe said “sit your butt down.” So I did. On my couch, in my dining room, with my arms around my kid or husband. Sitting down with a pen and paper to write silly things. With my phone as I’ve sent silly reminders and random poems and quotes to my family. 

I have three days before I have to be re-bound, literally and figuratively. But, right now, this crisis (that’s what it is, and a tragic one at that) is giving me freedom. My head is more together and my stress is decreased. We’re laughing because we can. We’re connecting because we want to. We’re sharing because it feels right.  And, I feel the growth that’s needed in myself moving towards some unidentified goal.  It’ll show up when it’s time.   What I know is that being braless for a week is an opportunity to take care of myself, to spend time with family, and to have no obligations to attend to. Selfish? No. Everything in this braless house is just as it needs to be.  And, I’ll be ready to be back fighting the good fight next when I head back to work. 

One last thing? I’m glad that underwire snapped before I did!

—Ursuline Bankhead 

Be the Lighthouse

”The one thing in life you have to do. 

Spread the light. Be the lighthouse.” Yogi Bhajan

30 Mile Point Lighthouse, Olcott, NY

Finding my solace in nature, I’ve taken the opportunity to start little things in the yard and garden. As the bulbs and flowers burst through, the robins sing, and spring returns in all her glory, it feels like hope itself welling up from the Earth.

After clearing leaves and connecting with the dirt, I was inspired to decorate this rock. 

—Holly Graham

Multi-talented Anne performs and sings Selena Gomez's "Kill 'Em with Kindness"

I was at Nancy’s Cinco de Mayo party last May, sitting outside in a circle talking with wonderful, interesting people, when I mentioned that I enjoy singing but can’t play an instrument. As the conversation continued, I realized, if not now, when? 

I had a plan: perform at an Open Mike in 1 year, playing an instrument “adequately” enough to sing along to 3 songs. 

When I left the party I went right to the store and bought a guitar. I made incremental progress. Then in late November, I bought a keyboard. For as long as I can remember, I’d always wanted to play piano. For one reason or another, I’d never done it. I don’t have room for a piano in my house, but it occurred to me that I could fit a keyboard, and maybe even take it along to the Open Mike in May. 

For awhile I was practicing both but have since been focusing on keyboard. 

It’s only been a few months. I took 4 of the chords that I could play on guitar and learned how to play them on the keyboard. I want to get better at them before I add another. 

I’m amazed at how many songs I can play with only 4 chords! 

I’m grateful to Nancy and friends for the advice and encouragement that I received that day, as it has provided me with a project that will sustain me during this time.

Here is one of the 3 songs that I’ve been working on for the May Open Mike that I expect will be postponed for awhile. 

Anne's Singing + Keyboards Video

 Now in UK (moved July 2019).

I live in the unique and very old village of Covelly in Devon.  No cars allowed and a steep cobbled street all the way down to the sea and a harbor, still in use, built over 600 years ago.  Usually there are hundreds of visitors and their dogs.  Dogs always welcome.

Spring is here, has been for a few weeks, which makes it easier to bear these strange times.  I send you a little piece of it.

- Jennifer Gold

Dancing Lessons

Dancing Lessons

McClusky relished her dance lessons. 

Her instructor was a lively Russian woman named Bunina

Whose demonstrations included furious twirls and leaps.

The dance studio was downtown on the top floor of  the Arcade Building

Where the late afternoon light 

Plunged through the high windows to fill the room.

But

Being on the top floor 

The dance studio required a long dark climb up the arcade stairs

A climb that made McClusky sigh despite her anticipation.

One afternoon Bunina announced  -

“Today we will dance with Fred,” and laughing

Led the dancers out of the bright studio to the top of the shadowy stairway.

“Stairs?” McClusky dismayed, “What if we fall down?”

“Liebchen,” Bunina smiled, “You will fall

But not down. 

First you'll grab for the bannister

Then your heel will catch you

You will find your balance, then

Edges, space, the stairs themselves will dance with you,

You and the stairs 

Dancing partners.

After you've learned what the stairs have to teach you

I'll let you dance with the broom.”

McClester

When It is Hard, We Cry.

This is my title for the clay piece I just completed, inspired by the brilliant illustrator Olef Hajek. 

I adore his illustrations but this one I was referencing especially spoke to me because it is a raw depiction of that one taboo emotion that we are to keep to ourselves and many times away from ourselves....sadness...and its ultimate physical manifestation of it...crying. Very taboo. But tears are the outlet and if they are not let out, then what do we keep in? And for how long? I give myself and you permission to let it out, if you like. 

Peace and Love. 

Julia Kagan