November 28, 2021 by Elizabeth Lerman
There is a mutual agreement tonight that we will not acknowledge tomorrow. Some sort of silent vow passes between us, insistent that Sunday will go on forever. We talk until there’s not much else to say and the candle burns itself steadily down to the stub, the suddenly visible wick warning us of the warm, waning hour.
November 26, 2021 - Every winter I give you my best by Jordan Myers
Manhattan aglow means I can hear you
sleeping in my dreams. Everything is
filtered taxi cab yellow, and from Tenth
Avenue I look up and watch two men
in all black run north along the High Line.
It’s cold and I can see their breath waving
goodbye and holding in the air they’ve left.
Every winter I give you my best. This year
is silence, a walk along the Hudson, red wine,
long pauses of shadows, and apologies implied.
November 25, 2021 - Metaphysical emotional space and the absence of time by Jordan Myers
Have you heard the autumn wind
blowing the leaves across Classon
Avenue at night? The rain fell &
we kept walking, west toward the
subway. The next Five train was
twelve minutes away, so I kept
reading the book you gave me
about metaphysical emotional
space and the absence of time.
Reality kept stating its case:
a slice of pumpkin pie stood
beside me on the empty seat
of the wooden bench by the stairs:
Every breath is a run for the gates
you had said, a chance to escape,
a cry for help ––– a longing, &
a journey into the depths: a well-lit
place where all the lights turn on
at the same time / / / with a gasp.
November 24, 2021 - Whispers stand on their own by Jordan Myers
Several years of long winded mistakes
have tried chasing November’s water
downstream ––– to no avail. The city
is dynamic ––– everything you watch
changes on sight. No demands need
be made. Whispers stand on their own,
with or without the Queensboro Bridge,
they carry over the river en masse at night.
November 22, 2021 by Jordan Myers
I mean this with my entire heart:
nothing happened today. I’m still
waiting for the city’s ok to breathe.
I did go out for a walk, & milk. I saw
an old man with white hair hail a cab
at W. 45th & 9th Avenue for a woman
in a black coat & red heels. Ty she said.
November 21, 2021 by Elizabeth Lerman
I woke up early this morning, the sun of real life rousing me from another world. It is still summer in my dreams but last night I turned a corner in some version of the city that only exists in sleep and found myself surrounded by snow, a different season stretching itself out around me, pulling me into its cold clutches and readying me for winter.
November 19, 2021 - Alone with the cold and the night by Jordan Myers
I walk the Brooklyn Heights Promenade again, the first cold night of fall. There’s wind everywhere, and for a moment, as I’m looking out across the East River, I see the buildings and the lights, but I forget about Manhattan; I forget about Brooklyn; and I forget that this place in the big giant world is named New York City. Anywhere is everywhere. And for now, I’m alone inside of myself, and alone with the cold and the night ––– quiet, still, and breathing.
November 18, 2021 - Barclays by Jordan Myers
The plan was simple: meet outside Barclays at nine. You bring the merch. I bring the money. I told you, I'll wear aviator glasses and a giant sombrero. You said you'd wear a light blue jacket with a gold chain. You thought the sombrero would be too much, but I had worn it for other deals and it made the difference. The plan was simple, but the deal wasn’t. You called it a high stakes exchange, but I knew it was something else. The stakes meant zilch. Deal or no deal, the ten minutes we’d stand outside Barclays that night –– you with the merch and me with the money –– would be our last chance. Period. I didn’t like it. You hated it. But we understood.
November 14, 2021 by Elizabeth Lerman
I wait until the rain calms to walk the dog. It is quiet by the time we go out and the sidewalk comes alive beneath street lamps, empty stretches paved with puddles and petrichor. Sullen leaves, soaked into silence by the storm, form soft piles that pad our steps and for the first time this season I am in a hurry to get home. Cold air catches up to me as I walk and a persistent shiver speeds my stride, all of me eager to be welcomed back into warmth.
November 13, 2021 - Professional Copywriting Services
The practice of law has served Curlew well; and has carried our literary and photo journal this far. Issue No. 9 is nearly complete, and will feature a redesigned and enhanced format. Yet, as we grow from a quarterly, and prepare for a release every two months, a new supporting venture must be launched: Curlew's Professional Copywriting Services. If there are any business owners who'd like to speak about how Curlew can add value to your work; and can increase revenue, send us a note. We'd love to speak.
