What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

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Merry Christmas! Here’s To Many More…

M

(by Relient K) I made it through the year and I did not even collapse Gotta say, “Thank God, for that” I’m torn between what keeps me whole and what tears me in half I’ll fall apart or stay intact With tired eyes I stumble back to bed I need to realize my sorry life’s not hanging by a thread At least not yet So look at me now Its finally Christmas and I’m home...

Do Not Open…

D

…until Christmas! I’m taking a break from blogging through the 25th. Please don’t cry. It was about time to recharge and regroup anyway… Thank you so much for so often taking the time to read what I have to say here! Please know that I’m thankful for you and excited to see what the next year of life (and writing) brings! Have a merry Christmasday! See you here...

…and when you said…

&

Don’t get me wrong; I love coffee shops, especially unassumingly, unironically eclectic ones like “Strange Brew”; a place like this knows what it is, what it wants to be, and so, it just is. But I always feel like such a poser, a poster cliche when I’m writing in one of them. There are nine people in this place, as far as I can see from where I sit, including the two...

No, I’m doin’ somethin’ important!

N

18 December 2012 Exit dirty smile to while away the time and bind the Hans so that the Falcon can just sit there and molt, sit bolt upwrong and learn the song of six pants, six pens all stopping at the same point, this lame joint was anointed and dubbed step silly sideways and ace that final, Abby, easy on the excise said the wise wingdinger eating fries and catch up with the lady but only liquor...

Arrival

A

I’ve tried and failed more than once today to write something, anything, here that even I would want to read in the future, but I’m entirely too excited for my fingers to work, and for my mind to find anything readily available except cliches, which are always there, much to my chagrin. I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately and whether it is a place—a building, a city—or a...

Here I Am Again

H

This is a departure from the normal here. It was written in earnest from a place of hopeful humility. Take it or leave it for whatever you deem its worth. But, please know that there is no self-righteousness here. The incriminated “I” is in fact me, and any “you” or “we” is entirely inclusive… ________________________________________ Be broken because you...

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep…

T

Breathe in deep and close your eyes, even though it is frightening to do so on this day you never know what images will show but you have good idea what will come if you let it, slow down your breath now and wipe your eyes, but don’t shy away just because you don’t understand, that’s why these fingers move like they do over the keys that’s why the pen brushes the page, to...

(no title)

(

Indescribable.
No words today…
…but two: love and hope.
In the face of everything we can never understand, we can continue to make meaning and find purpose in living lives full of love and hope.
Rest in peace, little ones and colleagues, knowing that in spite of overwhelming senselessness, you were loved.
And we will forever refuse to give up hope…
@c

Brickhead

B

Brickhead, dead to rights, wrong side out, spun around as if in shame to show its fading face amidst the newer hipper Mass Ave. markets and their scene, Bean would love to walk along here, I thought, even now without the clear markers between truth and lies, we’re left with blind-prone eyes instead of labeled bins, and even then, the eyes are turned back and away from the street, eating at...

In the Right Place…

I

First thing, my favorite Grandma joke—no, not a “yo’ gramma” joke, but rather, a classic direct from Grandma C… Josh was traveling south from Indianapolis to Louisville, KY and he was nervous. “There are so many road signs before and after the city. How will I know when I actually get there?” he asked his brother, Fred. “Just stop somewhere when you think...

What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

About Andrew.

Andrew Cartwright grew up in Indianapolis, IN, but has lived over the years in such places as Denver, CO; Fairfax, VA; and Rivne, Ukraine. He is a former nonfiction editor for both Indiana Review and phoebe; he has also worked for the intersectional feminist journal, So To Speak, and the national literary magazine, Electric Literature. His work has appeared in The Normal School Online, Copper Nickel, Esquire Ukraine, Literary Hub, and Word Riot.

For more information about me and links to other writing, visit my author page at cartwriter.com

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