As a supplement to our main issue of The Closed Eye Open, we have an ongoing feature called Maya’s Micros. As the name suggests, it will be curated by contributing editor Maya Highland and will exclusively feature short form writing.
Since it can be a long wait between issues, we’ve decided to keep the creativity rolling by focusing on the littlest form of creative writing—micros. Whether you consider them micro-poems or micro-fictions, they are welcome here…as long as each individual piece is 108 or fewer. (Why 108, you may ask? Have fun speculating…)
We like the idea of saying a lot in a small space–the complexity of self-expression in balance with an economy of language. And of course, since they are short, they can be enjoyed within a few moments–perhaps a line or phrase sticking with you to carry along for a while.
We will update Maya’s Micros in small “batches” a few times per month in between our full issues.
If you like what you see and would like to get e-mail updates, please e-mail us at theclosedeyeopen@gmail.com.
Click here to submit your micros for publication.
Also, you may follow us on Instagram @theclosedeyeopen.
Bonjour, Tristesse
“That summer returns to me with all its memories. . . . Something rises in me that I call to by name, with closed eyes.” — Bonjour Tristesse, Françoise Sagan
I dive into the pink sea and the sky
is green,
my hair smelled like pine and now
salt.
Waves under a father’s hand
flip out of my face,
shoulders are warm and cheeks red.
Life is debauchery,
I’m pretty sure. At least
the life I like, the fun
I want.
Structure is good
in this seashell,
abhorrent in my
study schedule.
I connive to
erase connection,
make my own
love.
My eyes
are red—
lack is
freedom.
Even a Worm Will Turn
In the brittle bone of winter’s warfare,
up the effervescent mountains,
into the palm of the breakage.
Even the scream you call fair and tiny
will shatter the ground you carry on lonesome.
Even a worm will seek the vengeance bestowed upon it
from the birthing of light,
and pave its own route of just;
Even a worm will turn.
“We’re going to another planet anyways”
So we just abandon our leases and leave
With moldy dishes in the sink,
Cigarette stains on peeling wallpaper,
And piss soaking the carpet in places,
From a dog we didn’t mention in the first place.
We say we’ll be better tenants this time
But we never get the deposit back.
Alchemical Hour
Coiling, inevitable and cold, an integral of
wind-swept rock juxt-ed by its kin,
granted clarity
in a kiln—
a molten moment
yielding a fearful symmetry
not predacious, but instead, beautifully blown.
Scratch
In the devilish dark, the poison ivy ratchets up
my urge to scratch. Long ago it was you—scaling
the fire escape of that hellish walk-up. Dawn would
remedy what I like to think was naiveté, but we were
unlucky creatures. So I imagine you now, a hologram,
another accessory in my haul of memories. How sweet
those grey eyes float above summer-freckled cheekbones.
The devoured architecture of your body flickers. But
history pierces me for looking and I try to claw back
despair. Birds awaken under the eaves and begin to sing.
We sang in a forest once—chased rhythmic stinging—
until circling spent, we fled.
Kira Rosemarie is an artist and writer living in South Florida with her husband, her cat Duchess, and her dog Marchesa. She works as a tech project manager and freelances as a copywriter. Her work has been published in La Piccioletta Barca, 805 Lit+ Art, The Write Launch, and others. Her debut chapbook, Moon/Season, was published by Bottlecap Press in 2022. Find Kira on Instagram @busy_witch.
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Meghan Kathleen is a writer originally from Montville, NJ. She is a graduate of Syracuse University where she gained her bachelor’s degree in English with minors in Women and Gender Studies and Psychology. She has worked as a freelance writer and PR professional while also publishing original poetry and short stories in literary magazines. Meghan’s work has been featured in publications such as Wingless Dreamer, Cathexis Northwest Press, You Might Need To Hear This, and more. She runs an Instagram dedicated to her creative work @meghankathleenwriter.
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Jenn Renee is a poet, tarot reading, and cuddler of cats. Her work has appeared in Howl (as Jennifer Dabbs) and ReWorded (as Jennifer Dexter). She is the author of the chapbook, Bare With Me. She is located in Northern California where she hangs out with the other WordHum hippies, and she received her B.A. from Cal Poly Humboldt.
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Alexander Lawler is a musicologist, academic director, and freelance editor located in Southern California. He is also the proud father to three rapscallion rabbits: Biscuit, Maple, and Frosting.
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Yvonne Morris’ three cats and many backyard birds are her writing partners. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks: Busy Being Eve (Bass Clef Books) and Mother Was a Sweater Girl (The Heartland Review Press). Her work has appeared in various online and print journals, including The Main Street Rag, The Santa Clara Review, The Ghudsavar Literary Review, and others.
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Bad Mood in Holding Rm. 2
Despite intimidation it has its way.
Still, from a closet with a one-way
window, you scrutinize that self—
helpless, though reluctant to crack
the door, peel off into that space,
fisticuff that thief into submission,
some admission, since if you did,
there’d always be a next you, back
in the dark, seizing the emptied seat
opposing the pane of introspection.
Mountain Pass
When you’re angry,
I stop and look back,
but I can’t see you
for the mist rising
from the river. First,
you’re clear, then a ghost,
then nothing, gone.
I don’t know how to write about people
how to best capture souls like fireflies
in a little glass jar
blinking slowly
to glow into an unilluminated night
until air runs out and I let them go
or
tighten my grasp and cling to the little corpses
with no more secrets
to tell.
Clingstone
Are we each a stone spoiling alone
and its tender flesh that longs for caress —
just a peach that clings to expired dreams?
Is each a fallen spirit freed of the pit,
no suture or cheek, soul’s mystique,
being’s escape from its heart’s shape?
Or are we both, existence’s double troth,
The body unwhole without the soul,
impermanent and essence’s lingering scent?
A Vision of Love
A vision of love awoke Luz while the crescent moon was still the only light up in the backcountry above the Sweetwater Reservoir. The vision had lasted long enough to reach its natural conclusion. Luz would now have to awake from her long slumber, put one foot down on the ground, then the other. She would have to walk a few feet to the edge of the world. There, she would ponder a while before taking a giant leap of faith into the void that separated the world that had given rise to her vision of love and the world that remained to be transformed by that vision.
D. R. James, retired from nearly 40 years of teaching college writing, literature, and peace studies, lives with his psychotherapist wife in the woods near Saugatuck, Michigan. His latest of ten collections are Mobius Trip and Flip Requiem (Dos Madres Press, 2021, 2020).
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Ken Anderson’s The Goose Liver Anthology was recently released by Red Ogre Review Books and Liquid Raven Media. His first poetry book was The Intense Lover. Coffin Bell Journal nominated his poem “Blood Quartet” for the 2024 Best of the Net anthology. He was a finalist in the 2021 Saints and Sinners poetry contest. His novel Sea Change: An Example of the Pleasure Principle was a finalist for the Ferro-Grumley Award and an Independent Publisher Editor’s Choice. His novel Someone Bought the House on the Island was a finalist in the Independent Publisher Book Awards.
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Bethany Hale is a wife and homeschool mother of three living, writing, knitting, and baking in Lebanon, TN. Her work has appeared in Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Hyacinth Review, and SHIFT.
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Jason Boitnott is a lifetime rural Nebraskan, family man, twenty-seven-year educator, and livestock farmer. His poems can be found in recent issues of The Midwest Review, Wingless Dreamer, and Nebraska Poetry Society’s Poetry Rabble.
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Dominique Margolis is a non-native English speaker from France who now lives in California. She is known for her creative non-fiction, and she is published in magazines such as The Closed Eye Open and Pensive Journal : A Global Journal of Spirituality and the Arts. To read more of her stories, visit www.dominiquemargolis.com. You may also follow her @dominique_1234 on X.
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