Brother, Can You Spare The Time?

Brother, Can You Spare The Time? To be fully present for the sensation of a moment where you can discover what lies behind the human masquerade, and have the chance to make everything in your life new again. You’ll uncover grief, sorrow and passion in the sensing of the body armor. The tragic spiritual mediocrity […]

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Back From The Dead

Back From The Dead I wait, patient as leaves. You like to speak of pleasant topics, & keep the thicket of the heart unmentioned. My breasts have changed, their fullest moment wasted. We will have to make our peace, me & the skeleton, me & the hourglass. I cracked the ice, a blow that brought […]

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Frequencies

Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress. His own work has been published widely in such places as The Chiron Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, VAYAVYA, Gingerbread House, Gravel and Zetetic: A Record of Unusual Inquiry. Frequencies It will be the only comfort you will know. You come down through the gossamer […]

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Leaving Paris

When I told my mom I’d decided to leave Paris and by extension the Louvre, the Canal St. Martin, the Marais, the amazing Chinese place with one-euro appetizers (carmelized lotus root! spicy green beans!) and move back to damp Normandy, she was not convinced. “Why would you want to leave Paris?” she asked, as though […]

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Back in the Day(s)

In the first three weeks, I would wake up (though to say wake up you would think I had been sleeping, when, in fact, I probably had just put my head to the pillow) and my eyes felt like sandpaper. My body ached, and I just felt dirty, no matter how many showers I took, […]

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Meet: The Innkeeper

Most Mondays on my blog, True STORIES., I introduce readers to everyday people and everyday occurrences. Following is one true story I wrote for you today: A young woman–she considers herself young but really, she’s in her mid-thirties, not young, not old–leaves her family and heads to an island to be alone for several days. Not […]

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THIS IS NOT A L…

THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY. THIS IS JUST MY LIFE. [PART 1.]

Sometimes I think that memories would be better and more beautiful if they were painted from a place of imagination versus reality. A sort of past life creative outpouring. Like colors swirling into surrealism…but in the now.

The thick of carpet fibre disgusts me. And softness is deceiving when your face is pressed in it. Echo of shame speaks and then lingers. Dirt never tasted so good.

One day I almost asked a stranger if they had ever woken up from a dream so vivid that they thought they were still in it. Lips shut. I walk on.

I carried my heart that day like a drum while reminiscing of the Oldies song that goes “…and the beat goes on…” You are married now. Out of state. New state of mind.

But that day I almost caught up. Max speeding. Legs moving. I had a feeling you were near. After that, I saw you once more. Happy endings.

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