By Cameron Crowell // Co-Editor
This is a poetry column I am currently working on about a couple trying to travel by train through a non-linear world. On some days the sun sets and on others it rises. Sometimes they talk in places and with bodies and others times they float. I don’t have an order of how to read these in mind. Think of them more like poetry-comic-strips.
There were games and drinks and games with drinks, like pin the pitcher down my esophagus. All the attendees were roofs and walls and Paula sat still on the floor trying not to look, because it is rude to stare. There was music but the only distinct quality of it was load, but meant to be in the background. When a roof called to her, she didn’t hear at first. But they kept calling, so she broke her stare from her shoes that understood. The roof called again, “Get Up! Get Up! Let’s Dance!”
Paula nodded to be polite as the roof and walls closed in closer.
“Dance with me!” They jumped, and lamps fell. They shook, and the antique chandelier swayed back and forth crying for it to stop.
“Dance with me!”
But Paula did not want to dance, there was no music. Just noise and cackling laughs.The roof reached down and grabbed Paula’s arm.
“Dance with me!” They laughed and laughed so loudly they would not hear or see Paula any longer. So when the moon peaked through the sunroof window, Paula wished herself there. So she was.
witch◇haus◇pdx 