June 21, 2020. HOME/ABROAD

"Caravanner's Trade" by M.A.A.
the worst architect in town
grumpy bastard and boring creations
planning tunnels above and around
hollow bridges between disasters
one rune and a signature on paper
and the bridges continue to emerge
and they do so forever
 
patriots to a non-existent land
ever wandering comrades
of now disappeared sages
fall off the hollow bridges
into oceans of black sand
covering the paths
of soot and grime
there's not much to be done
when the paper's signed
when the rune is gone
this deal made in haste
will last
 
it is a nomad's game
lose as much as you get
caravanner's trade
anything worth finding
is already dead
roots resemble vines
blossoms but leaves
one can never return
but always leave
 
so hold on to your memories
and keep them clean
for at the next oasis of thieves
they will be weighted
and reverted to dreams

– – –

– – –

“Suprise Suprise” by Rachel Thornburgh

The day had finally arrived, I looked a million dollars, my best friend had dropped me to departures and I had completed the US Immigration preclearance. I was dizzy with excitement.

Since he had surprised me with a night in Paris, I had secured a job and an extended J1 visa to work in Hawaii and took off shortly after the exams were over. I had surprised him on my way over and on my return. I had made sure my connections went via Austin. He made plans to come to Maui. It had been a week of romance and passion. I had told my roommate not to expect to see me for the week.

Now back in Ireland I was adamant to be on the road again soon, hopefully with him. I hadn’t seen him in six months. We had decided to meet half way, to pin down our future together. We were headed to New York for a week. This was the man I wanted. He was the one for me.

 ‘Could Rebecca Travers please pick up a courtesy telephone?’

I heard the announcement and laughed. Surely, it was my best friend wishing me luck. I eagerly made my way to the information desk and was pointed in the direction of a phone mounted to a wall nearby. I picked up the phone. I stated my name and the operator connected the call.

‘Hey’, I said smiling, expecting to hear my friend.

‘Hi’. It was him. It was Christian. That familiar drawn out “hi” that I had first heard over two years previously when he had first introduced himself to me only I could tell that he wasn’t smiling this time. A million thoughts swam through my head. What was going on? Was there another surprise? Apprehension impressed upon me like never before.

‘I just found out that I’m going to be a father’.

– – –

"home (n.)" by Connor Orrico
                                                  to long to be
                                                  home
 
ham (Old English),
"dwelling place, house,
abode, fixed residence; estate;
 
village; region, country,"
from *haimaz (Proto-Germanic),
“home”
 
                                                  place
 
/ hem (Old Frisian)
/ hemir/heima (Old Norse)
/ hjem (Danish)
 
/ heem (Middle Dutch)
/ heim (German)
/ haims (Gothic)
 
                                                  history
 
from *(t)koimo- (PIE),
root *tkei- "to settle, dwell, be
home;"
 
perhaps a story of being
& ubeity -- of person & place;
homestead homeostasis
 
                                                  to belong
                                                  home
 

– – –

"There and Here, Old and New" by S.J. Saighead
Only there it’s truly dark;
waking down long ambling paths,
eyes straining for light.
Only there it’s truly quiet;
a voice on the wind,
heard from miles away
along with badger’s hassled feet
and wren’s worries.
The light of a cigarette
can be seen from space there,
burning alone.
 
Lonely city, Eliot was wrong.
You do not go quietly. You roar
and splutter and cough under
LED street-lights. They say they’d
stay going for years, long after
the last lonely feet are dragged home,
bleary eyed and disappointed,
the street lamps will light the way
for cityless ghosts.

– – –

NEXT WEEK’S THEME: BODY

Submit at artisticdifferencesproject@gmail.com

More information under ‘Submissions’ above.

Published by artisticdifferencescurator

My name is Seán and I am the creator and curator of the Artistic Differences Project. I started this project during the lockdown in Ireland due to COVID-19 in March 2020 as a way to get my friends and I creating during a troubling time. From there the project as gone from strength to strength and now we publish a new exhibition every two weeks.

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