The Weather Report with Juliette Sandoval #7

Thursday July 13, 2023

I’ve got the world caught in a frame. That moment in time was an absolute construction. Another miasma of boardwalks and the light bearing down. I imagine circus tents are pitched right outside my field of view. The carnival crowd is closing in. Those are fields from some other time, and a place I’ve never been.

Friday July 14, 2023

Life is conforming to some strange standard. I am getting ahead of myself. I’ve known the train tracks, the way they make the room shudder and collapse. I’ve known the weeds which split the pavement open. I’ve wandered down the yellow brick road, in search of Emerald City. My dream is getting tangled into knots, I watch it fall apart in my hands. I don’t know where I end and where the tree begins [in the aftermath].

Saturday July 15, 2023

There is need for something to come to light. The moths circle, they are demanding. I shouldn’t play with matches but the world looks so beautiful in fire. Do you see how the desert warms the night? Do you see how unreal the space between becomes? How close you can be to me in an instant? And how far

Sunday July 16, 2023

There is no place like home.
There is no place like home.
There is no place like home.

Monday July 17, 2023

It’s a beautiful day. The perfect day. As long as you ignore the carnival barkers trying to sell you expired wishes. There are too many things happening. And I know it will be a whirlwind. The tornado is on the horizon. The sky is too blue, the fields are too golden. This was inevitable. How pristine the calm before the storm.

Tuesday July 18, 2023

The county fair can make you feel so alone. They are smiling and getting on the ferris wheel now. The tents are emanating a lantern glow in the hot summer night. From every corner there is laughter. I watch it all from afar like a ghost who has forgotten how to speak.

The breath of life is a mutual wish.

Wednesday July 19, 2023

I am lost in the crowd. We are packed like sardines in the promenade. The tide is rushing towards us, I see the whole of the sea floor moving. I shouldn’t think anymore. I don’t want to think anymore. I want to find a new ocean, new shores. I want to leave it all behind.

Juliette Sandoval

Twitter: @rabbitsmoon24
Instagram: @rabbitsmoon24

Up next "Volunteer" by Jesse Hilson "Falsettos" by Israel Okonji
Latest posts "I've Got Mine: Notes on Neil Young's 'Motion Pictures (For Carrie)'" by Johanna Sommer Three poems by Jenkin Benson Review: Carpet Cocoon by Iceblink "Kathy draws a line" by Will Bindloss Whartscape: A Look Back [Anything for a Weird Life] "The More Broken Someone Seems, the More We See Ourselves in Them" by Justin Karcher spiral poem by aeon ginsberg The Weather Report with Juliette Sandoval [#12] Two poems by Jenna Jaco "Manscape" by Jon Doughboy Three micros by Addison Zeller Artscape: A Look Back [Anything for a Weird Life] Sculpting Golems and Fog Machines Working Overtime: Interview with Anna Krivolapova, Author of Incurable Graphomania "I Knew You When You Aspired to the Biologic Imagination" by Juliette Sandoval "Two Micros: First Shift, Second Shift" by Jess Gallerie "imagine, if you will, that i am dissociating" by nat raum from "In Between Snow and Blossom" by Jacelyn Yap "as Sensationism" by evelyn bauer Men's Recovery Project, or The Pain of Being Pioneers [Anything for a Weird Life] Two poems by Rob Kempton "Lightning" by Jackson Rezen "Where I Fold in Half" by Erin Smith Three poems by Scout Faller "Shark Poem" by Lexie Mountain Two wrestling erasures by Josh Shepard Two poems by Aderet Fishbane What I Did on my Summer Vacation [Anything for a Weird Life] The Weather Report with Juliette Sandoval [#11] "window offerings" by Ceci Webb "Sweet Talk" by Ron Riekki Two poems by Owen Paul Edwards