these gifts, freely given

to listen to your ancestors
requires the following

four years of quietude
an empty stomach
a warm cup of strong tea
(in a style your relatives recognize),
a blanket under the canopy
of a tree as old as your great-grandfather

after this, all you need is
the humility
to love

the sand in your mouth & the
cracked china on the stair & the
crinkles in your smile & the
shrieking can’t on the wind & the
guts on your boots & the
down quilt on the bed & the
boiling rock in your stomach & the
blood on the carpet & the
tears in your hair

for they gave
you all

—Isaac Lewis

Tuesday Spiders / jesse clyde / "Thank you for being here"

The Faucet

This faucet here,
I keep it slow
a steady trickle
a sneaking drip.

What happens when
I let it go?
I’m older now
I think I know.

At first it’s good,
a thrilling flow
a gushing hose
Put on your suits

We’re all lined up
so grateful, loose.
It’s your turn now
You next, me too

The sun is high —
No better day
to splash through sky
to palm the spray


The water stops.
Mid-air, it drops.
The faces fall,
the shoulders shrug

I wave goodbye
as you

So now I’ve learned
to keep it slow
though few may come,
those few won’t go

—Sarah Avenir

Sarah Avenir is a writer, reader, and aspiring hermit. Keeper of many side projects at

Cartoon by Vince Bigos /, Instagram: cardboard_robots 

The Sun Also

As we feel the sun upon our faces
Does the sun also feel our faces

When we feel the wind upon our cheeks
Does the wind also feel our cheeks

When we hear the waves a crashing
Do the waves know that we are listening

Do the stars sense our wonder

Does the storm see us trembling

I suspect that it is so.


Alexa Wilt /