Jump-and-Canon

Imogene

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Literature

Butterfly

"Have you always been a bumblebee?" "Of course! Haven't you always been a butterfly?" The butterfly snorted. "Of course not. How boring! Life is too short to stay the same all the time." The bumblebee frowned, skeptical. "But that's ridiculous. How could you have ever been something else? What were you?" "I used to be a caterpillar. You know, the world is much different when you're stuck that close to the ground." The butterfly's blue wings shimmered. The bumblebee just stared, bug-eyed. "But how?" he demanded. "Sorry, trade secret," the butterfly winked. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." The frown of the bumblebee dee

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Butterfly by friesaregood, literature

Literature

Butterfly

On the Subject of Finding X by ToXTheXMorgueX, literature

Literature

On the Subject of Finding X

I'll have you know that I've just spent a considerable amount of time searching for x. I've looked in all of the places that x might plausibly reside, and even in some places where I assumed x would never be caught dead, but I've come up empty-handed. I checked to see if x was under the bed, perhaps hidden among old school notes and forgotten art projects and lonely orphan socks. I scoured the closet, checking in every pocket of every innumerable pair of jeans, which, trust me, is no mean feat. I screened for x in every drawer of every dresser in every room, but it was all to no avail. I proceeded to flip through all of the books that have

Not a sonnet. by SourPopsi, literature

...And Strawberry Jam by bleusman, literature

Literature

...And Strawberry Jam

Ella-Marie's first word was "jam," which frustrated Ella-Marie's mother upon her realization that she had no bearing on her daughter's first word. It was the product of Ella-Marie's father, of course, like the rest of her daughter's life. David played drums, and as he left to play drums with his band, he'd tussle Ella-Marie's hair and say, "Someday you're gonna jam with us, honey," kiss her on the forehead, and wander off. But it was more likely the word came from David's request every morning, before he'd go off to work: "How about a peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam sandwich, eh?" And Ella-Marie's mother would have made the sandwich already

Of Star Guts and Satellites by angel-in-pieces, literature

Literature

Of Star Guts and Satellites

-So; what is it like, learning to grow? -Well, first, there's a spark: a kick in the core of your nerves, like a light blinking on through the dark. Then, you've got to think yourself into the part; ignore your splintered limbs and learn to stretch, fearlessly. Like roots into earth. Question and answer. -Does it hurt? -Only being fearless. That's like having flint stitched into your spine. But time, you'll find, will heal these scars – ours is the business of rebirth. Even cradled in the hold of our half-formed words we manage to pluck the stars from our diaphanous skies, and the chewed jewels from our throats. That'

Infinity in practice by Kijan, literature

i am a poem with no algorhythm by ChloroformBoy, literature

Literature

i am a poem with no algorhythm

millions of people die each year from car crashes and hurricanes. billions of people live each year in poverty, bad health, or shame. (note: statistics are 63% reliable) only one in ten trillion find their truelove. my life consists of: falling numbers, miscalculations, and histograms. my love is measured with: flowcharts, diagrams, graphing paper. the square roots of negative numbers. points where our axes would intersect had we not evolved into parallel lines. everyday i slide abacus beads for every regret. everyday i like to pretend i found my truelove to convinc