Cool grass under our bodies, my head in his lap, my heart lost in his eyes. I imagine us growing old together, staring up at the clouds like this with grey hair. I clamp down on this memory with every ounce of my soul. Don't forget.

A hidden song, just for us. Played on repeat, etched into my heart, long since turned to stone. No words, just longing vibrating on guitar strings. Only you, always you. I stand in the shower, sobbing, as the song plays in my head. The memory holds onto me, and will not let go.

I love again, not like the first, but more livable. We make love, and laughter, a home, and a family. I gently press each memory between sheets of glass. Wrap them in velvet. Don't let go.

My family's curse. Oblivion before death. Will it come from me? My first kiss, my childhood friends, each happening and event grows cloudy and slippery. My mom's face, my dad's voice. My brother's laugh. Gone. My child. So precious. I hug him desperately. Maybe if I hold him tight enough, my arms will remember, my chest will remember, even when my mind fails me. Maybe I'll escape the curse. Maybe, if I hold on hard enough, I'll keep just enough memories to still be me.

Hot. Sweaty. The AC downstairs doesn't reach my room. I race out the door and squeeze my way onto the bus. I'm so excited, but a larger kid shoves me back, muttering, "the freshman get smaller and more annoying every year." Sorry. I find a seat next to a quiet girl, we smile at each other.

I meet him in band. Soft brown curly hair, dreamy sea glass eyes. A drummer. Our souls are drawn together like magnets. School will teach me how to think, he will teach me how to live. This is the first day of my becoming.

This daily grind will soon reveal if I am a diamond in the rough or just a lump of coal

Burnt as the grounds of coffee at the bottom of my cup

Today is better than yesterday

Today I feel adequate

And I laugh and cry at the thought

That an adequate day is cause for celebration

I've become numb to disappointment, apathetic to injuries

The secret, I've found, when the sea of life overwhelms you

Is to just give up

If you lay there, real still, you'll float to the top

Eventually

Realize, life does not have to be a battle to be beautiful

I'll give up relationships, give up sleep, give up health

If I don't, they'll be taken from me anyway

And cling to this small lifeboat

Which only has enough room for three things

I'll work to keep this lifeboat afloat

Patch a hole here and there

Jettison my dreams and goals

Endlessly tread through work and water

And carefully place my husband, my child, and myself inside

We'll keep each other alive and on most days

That's enough to make us smile

Some days, there are fewer holes to patch

And the dreams that fled like rats from a sinking ship

Return to bask in the sun

Until the next hole appears and I'm treading water again

My life is constantly patching holes to keep from sinking

My life is constantly putting out fires

Having to choose the fieriest fire to put out first

But every night

When my family is asleep

I let it all burn

Let it all wash away

Pull out a blank canvas

Pull up a blank page

Take my soul, blackened and ground down

and leave my mark

.

Welcome to the bizarre bazaar of my mind

like an orange it doesn't rind

undiagnosed self-dosed

unfiltered it flitters

finishing a thought or not

faulty memory/wiring

less a stream of consciousness, more a

steam of no consequence

envelopes me like a fog

I try to grab some drops

but it just makes my brain fingers slippery

a platypus swims across

everything tastes like chicken except for eggs

six in one and something about your mother

does anyone else ever feel like their computer head

is just hanging there on the blue screen

or is constantly rebooting? the same four notes

playing over and over and over

into the spiral of infinity that is never far from

my trains of thought, as they travel this way and that

on their mobius strip tracks, turning inside out and

upside down but always returning to the same spot

like a roomba (was that supposed to be capitalized?)

I think, it's hard to let go of the idea of perfection

even when I'm trying to show the chaos of my mind

ugh, the silhouette of my poem got super blocky

time for some

short lines to add

interest

that's better

anyway, where was I? which train was traveling the fastest?

oh no a drawbridge, will it raise in time

or will we crash through into the castle of my mind?

crash

quiet

it's oddly quiet in here, the trains are gone

the birds have all flown down under

I wonder why anyone would want to read

this disorganized mess it's not even hot

a tepid squirming mass of ew

I'm not even going to finish that

Whatever, if you made it this far you deserve a present

here's a peasant, how pleasant

he's wearing a pheasant

*snickerdoodle

gotta remember to drink water today

I can see why people don't like this style

who wants to stare into the face of insanity

or is that just humanity

hey writer Bunny

we're all mad hare

You are here.

In a place deeper than remembering,

you are born again.

In these brief seconds of eternity,

the lessons of your past and the hopes of your future

spread out in an infinite spiral.

Warp threads treadle up and down,

recurring themes in your tapestry.

Lessons learned, covered, and recovered,

until wisdom becomes identity.

Weft yarns shuttle back and forth,

frantic snapshots of your triumphs and defeats,

in familiar colors and never-ending patterns.

A few yarns, with brilliant sparkle,

intertwine with yours, again and again.

The Loom calls you back,

and you fall past the stars of understanding,

landing, bruised, battered, and breathless

into a new becoming.

The Water of life surrounds your body,

the blood of the Earth beats in your veins,

and the Fire of thought sparks in mind.

You emerge, taking in Air,

exhaling the memory of the stars,

for the nth time and the first time.

You cry out and your soul awakens,

ready to try and feel and love and learn.

You are here.

Yesterday or so it seems,

we were bursting at the seams.

My laughter on the edge of a snort,

Your rolling bass a deep retort.

Turns out, 70 candles on the cake was bad,

Hey, house is still standing, Happy Birthday Dad!

Today, I saw that photograph,

and I heard your awesome laugh.

Rumbling from your generous heart,

it's always infectious from the start.

Turns out, you can still make me smile,

Even though you've been gone, quite a while.

Tomorrow, or one day soon I fear,

I'll listen for your laughter, but it won't be there.

That first silence will be tough,

one day, photos won't be enough.

Turns out, though that memory is nice,

I'll have to live with losing you twice.

He's my best friend. Some say he's bad, inhumane even. But they don't know him like I do.

He saved me from the streets. I was wandering, alone, beyond hunger. Just waiting to die. I ran into him, and he snarled, "Watch where you're going, idiot!" I didn't have the energy to respond. But then he saw me, saw the state I was in, and led me to his car. He didn't mention how filthy I was.

At his place I was so weak, he had to carry me inside. He helped me clean up and offered me toast and water.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll go shopping tomorrow. You can stay as long as you want. My name is Brian."

I just smiled my thanks. I was grateful for a full belly, a warm place to stay. I curled up on the couch and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Months went by, and I became more myself, ribs no longer showing, hunger a distant memory. We'd walk to the park, and it was sheer joy to touch grass, smell fresh air. Brian took great delight in my joy.

Brian worked from home, and I didn't like what it did to him. He spent all day on the phone, using a fake happy voice. Oily. Sometimes he'd get agitated, and slam his hand on his desk. Sometimes, the call would go well and he’d buy me a gift.

One night on his couch a nightmare woke me up, whimpering. I felt his strong arms lift me up and carry me to his bed. “It’s ok,“ he whispered, “you’re safe now.” He smelled like an autumn breeze. I fell asleep, safe in his embrace.

Brian told me about his past. He'd hurt people, bullied them, preyed on their innermost fears. He'd physically hurt them too, pinch, trip, shove. He'd been mean just to get a reaction.

I didn’t offer judgement or absolution. Just listened.

He quit his job. In the middle of a call he looked at me. I looked back. He said, “Look, you need to watch out for scammers, they prey on good open-hearted people like you. You almost lost a lot of money, and you wouldn’t have gotten it back. You can’t trust everyone, ok? You have a good night too, Agnes.”

He hung up the call, relieved. His next phone call he sounded happy for real.

“Jake, it’s been a while. Do you want to come over and watch the game tonight?”

When Jake walked in, I could tell they were brothers, they even had a similar smell.

“So,“ Jake said, “This is the girl who turned your life around? The one who tamed the savage beast?”

”Yeah, she’s a good girl. The best girl.” Brian smiled radiantly at me and I nuzzled his hand.

”Have you figured out a name yet?” Jake scratched my ears. "A dog's gotta have a name."

Brian‘s voice caught in his throat. He cleared it and said, ”Her name is Hope.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, Enbys and Multis! Welcome to the 2000th annual Galactic Pickleball Tournament!

We're back where it all began, at the Pritchard Arena on the quaint little planet Earth. When it all started, they were playing with nets and just two arms per player, haha! Well I don't know about you folks, but I'm grateful to Jo-el for bringing such a fantabulastic game to the cosmos!

If you haven't been following along with the latest additions to the Rule Book, be sure to download the latest copy and subscribe for more updates. And if you left your racket, pickle, balls, tridents, singularities, or helmet in an alternate dimension, no problem! Just stop by the Picklery on level 500 for game gear, souvenirs, and this year's signature drink, the Greenie Meanie!

And now, it's our first match, featuring The Lovenauts from the Alpha Centauri system versus The Snorgeelbryetygpets all the way Sirius versus our home team The Mighty Pacific from Earth!

The team from Sirius is in full bioluminescence mode, so I hope everyone else brought their sunglasses! Alpha Centauri will start in the Zesty position, with Earth on Gherkin and Sirius on Bread and Butter. You can follow along on the 3-D tournament bracket on our app, now available on iPhones everywhere!

Best of luck to all the teams, may the saltiest among us win!

I killed them. I wanted an easier life, one without worry of judgement, fear of conflict. I didn't want to keep having the awkward conversations about our differing beliefs. I wished my life could be easier. So they died. and now my life is easier. And I think I killed them.

I wished my mom wouldn't worry so much about me living a sinful life, I didn't want to feel that she thought I was going to hell. So we would talk around it, only talk of things that were safe. Until we barely talked at all. I couldn't be mad that she didn't tell me she had cancer. When would she have told me? I spent more time with her as an adult after she had the stroke, when she couldn't speak at all, then I did while she was healthy. Did I kill her with my neglect? Did I think I'd have forever to figure this out? Did I want her to die so I wouldn't have to?

I am my father's daughter, as well as daddy's girl. He would come over unannounced, cook me food I couldn't eat. He wanted to give so much, but he ended up needing so much. He would take up my space, leave his mess everywhere. I told him to stay somewhere else while he was in town. I wished he wasn't such a burden. He had a stroke and fell down the stairs, and few weeks later, had an aneurysm, and was brain dead until he died. I guess he's not a burden anymore.

My brother and I had very different political views. We spoke of it once and then never again, carefully understanding our love for each other might not survive such a battle. I wished I didn't have to see his views on social media, wished I didn't have to make excuses for him, defend him. So he died. There's no chance of us getting into an argument now.

It is hard to live with two truths at once. That I loved my mom, my dad, my brother and I wanted them to live long, happy, healthy lives. But I wished for an easier life, and they died and now my life is easier. Acknowledging this is like admitting that I killed them.

In my head, I know this is not true. But in my heart, this thought lives, rent-free, forever.

Time is a general, she marches on.

Do you rush ahead,

try to beat her to the end?

Do you march with her,

keeping time with Time?

Or are you her prisoner,

dragged along reluctantly?

She is, after all, undefeatable.

Time is an artist, she paints the past.

Pastel smudges of memory,

Bold strokes of emotion.

She drums the rhythm of now,

cheeky Time, did she increase the tempo?

She dances her way into the future,

spinning across the stage of history.

You think her linear, but she can see the spiral.

Time is a lover, she knows everything.

She lays your head in her lap,

caressing your grief until it lays down too.

She takes your light, your imperfections,

etches them into her heart, quietly erodes the sharp edges.

You'll fight her, you'll want her,

but in the end, you'll release yourself to her.

The trouble is, you think you have Time,

But all along, it's Time who has you.