Are we recording? We are an open, collaborative production company. Come work with us!
View Grid Expanded

That was the summer the fireflies invaded our lives, talking in a secret language that only they understood. Puddles of footsteps reigned in the street. Boys wet with rain, drenched with the sharp smell of gasoline and dreams piled on the corner of the street shooting marbles.


With summer came the expectation of change. Girls arrayed in delicate dresses paraded in our street, going nowhere in particular. They were simply testing the fit of their new virtue.


There were secrets too that died in the sealed lips of the culprits framed inside the black and white photograph that sat on the table in my living room.


A jigsaw puzzle bitten to pieces caused my room to ignite. Before going to bed, I would gaze at the exquisite night sky and watch as thousands of tiny dark spots formed in the shape of a woman sitting on the moon. Wide awake with the suspicion that things would always be too big for me to grasp. I found my sadness that night. Whenever I tried to speak, untrained syllables flapped like a dead fish in my mouth.


The fireflies left the following week. One kid in my neighborhood spotted them going East. We hadn’t packed our bags yet, hadn’t bought our tickets. Their betrayal left a fire inside of my belly that burned a hole on the map of my childhood.


We still played in the vacant parking lots, in our plain clothes. Without the possibilities of getting out, we embraced our new freedom and the wilderness of our local colors; we exchanged heartaches with just one glance. The kaleidoscope of sounds we uttered which sounded foreign to an untrained ear became our advantage.


I still think of that one afternoon; the yellow sun glistening on our skin, the feeling of confetti in the air like we had been chosen to do something great, silently been given a confirmation that we were secretly special.


But I guess they changed their minds. If only I had caught one.
I blame it on the fireflies.





Continue Reading
Flowers
Fireflies
mushr Released May 06, 2014
14
5970
1 resources
1 results
info

He first saw the flyer on the pavement on the train station just as he was about to board the train. It was a strewn piece of paper that kept following him, given that it got stuck...

Continue Reading
by mushr Jan 31, 2013
7
1116

It was the first week of September,
we mapped our childhood by the sunburns
that peeled off of our skin.


A pair of Dr Martens & tattered jeans
anointed the cool kids.
While we sat...

Continue Reading
by mushr Apr 15, 2014
30
8444

Cherry blossom
dressed in white,
my beautiful warrior child,
enchant me with your April dance.


My heart is dark and heavy
with sullen things.
May I request for you to sing
me hymns?


May I...

Continue Reading
by mushr Apr 10, 2014
9
732

The ink from his fingernails stained her dress,
warning her that one day their story will end.
But she could not stay away,
she could not catch her breath,
though the funeral march...

Continue Reading
by mushr Feb 04, 2014
5
457

Jim Puffyblooms was a former seafarer, a now vagabond, semi bona fide petty thief; an everyday collector of found things others might call trash, but a little tweak here and there,...

Continue Reading
by mushr Jul 30, 2013
2
682

The Magician’s box arrived at precisely 10 a.m.  The UPS guys, didn’t even blink twice when you signed for it. Then together we struggled to drag that thing into your garage. Your...

Continue Reading
by mushr Feb 11, 2013
6
556

You walk like a wounded cliché
an unprecedented comma
separates you from the others.


You’re in love with the games
that you play in your mind.
In your head you play these scenes
so...

Continue Reading
by mushr Mar 25, 2013
6
1427

This is how it happened.

Yesterday on my way to work.

I stepped on a dead toad….

Your face came/ in a flash

Unbidden memory.

An electric shock/ of sorts…

Buckley, I will never hear

your...

Continue Reading
by mushr Jan 19, 2010
0
508
I love the chime of imperfect things,
together they pipe the symphony
of broken dreams.

Desires expressed in solitude
become tomes & zeppelins
in our mind's play.

& those hopes...
Continue Reading
by mushr Dec 21, 2010
3
1075

Peter packed his photographs post permission from persnickity Albert- the fabulous, pontificating, palaverous, bossman. Peter was pleasantly surprised with the precipitous reaction...

Continue Reading
by mushr Nov 07, 2011
0
257

                                                                                                                                                          
...

Continue Reading
by mushr May 09, 2011
4
313
by mushr Feb 28, 2010
27
4676