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Year: 2021

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Talk to me about the letter H

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 30, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
Here is unshaped breath. Can I rename this sleeping air? This sound is an ocean, older than voice. It still hisses from unsophisticated throats. You mistake my interest in phonetics.…
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Slow download over a weak open WiFi connection

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 25, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
Curtain flicker: your eyes, no—my eyes, nighttime windows: women walking half-naked back-lit big screen TV, what am I watching? No one made a Netflix special of your smile, I blink…
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Premonitions arrive at my house, with and without invitations

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 24, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
The flyers that are delivered despite the "No Junk Mail" sticker on my mailbox are an omen. If there's a truth that everyone should know, it's sold at Canadian Tire,…
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Love is such an amorphous word

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 23, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
You must be a ghost because some days ghosts are the only thing worth loving. I mean—young ghost, I don't love you. I mean—I don't know how to splinter love…
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Can you define me by what I am not?

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 22, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
Is it absurd to wonder whether galaxies mourn the death of their stars? I assign breath to entities with no lungs; I expect the by-product of body chemicals to exist…
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Poem for a day when I cannot write

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 19, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
Respect that the words don't know how to flow today, love. They congeal and coagulate. You can't be part of them. Viscosity is a bitch and so is insolubility. Put…
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forget about frogs in a grocery store

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 18, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Prose
How am I supposed to forget about the frogs? They were lined up along the upright freezers. It started, I suppose, because frogs can't make plans. It's the small brain.…
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Too much becomes too much and where does it settle?

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 16, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
Where could we drive with sleep permeating the back seat? Driving was the point and not the point. Here is where the eagles circled above the waste management centre. Did…
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What fades to background?

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 15, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
Among the things I no longer see in my house is the ghost of a ladybug that haunts my uncertain geranium. The geranium's uncertainty is, in part, due to the…
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Types of magic that only exist after 10 PM on moonless Saturdays in November

Posted by By Jessica Coles November 13, 2021Posted inCreative Writing, Poetry
An unshareable autumn night: you + I walked along sodium-lit sidewalks. Stars tucked themselves in squirrels nests but didn't know how to hide. You laughed, pressed a wafer cookie onto…
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Recent Posts
  • Talk to me about the letter H
  • Slow download over a weak open WiFi connection
  • Premonitions arrive at my house, with and without invitations
  • Love is such an amorphous word
  • Can you define me by what I am not?
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