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.
Thoughts on an Early Morning
Outside in the bluing dawn, no one is out but me and the satellites overhead and little creatures watching from the safety of bushes. I drag the trash can to the curb and think the satellites are far enough away that they might as well be stars. I’ll never touch one. By that logic the creatures watching me from their hiding spots are that far away too.
The trash truck turns the corner coming my way, but by then I’m in the shadows. The men do not see me as they work.
I’m as distant from them as the stars.
Close at Hand
(for Andrea)
This poem signifies a poem
that I am incapable of writing
for your Birthday
A poem that is much like
one of the luscious ripe
purple black plums
in the yellow bowl on the
kitchen table
A plum poem that threatens
to absorb all the light in the kitchen
A plum poem that patiently
waits to open its life
in your mouth
Scrappy Doo
A family can be two = you + me + the cat + the ex-boyfriend + the girl who’s just a friend + your parents + my coworkers + the guy from the show we watch on tv + that book i want you to read + that time i tried to die at 18 + your ex-roommates (mine too) + someone I just met yesterday + the person that gets too handsy at a party + those friends you haven’t introduced me to + my neighbor’s dog named scrappy doo.
Enough
It doesn’t matter that Honey Baked was sold out
on the day before Easter because the Bay Bridge
maze is moving at the speed limit and the clouds
over Oakland would have pleased Ansel Adams
and you are inhaling the wafting aroma of slowly
cooling baby back ribs in the back seat that will
carry over to the kitchen when they are reheated
in a low oven while you search for paper napkins
to mop up the sauce that you don’t need because
the pit master was a BBQ savant and weeks after
you suck the bones clean, you will savor this day.
What News from Our Tottering State?
A feely bliss, a nook to snore. Pixel glory, threat art, the proofless splendor of catastrophe. Time to cut down on the guitar solos. Throw a shrug and sleep in the shed.
John Brantingham is the recipient of a New York State Arts Council grant and was Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks’ first poet laureate. His work has been in hundreds of magazines and The Best Small Fictions 2016 and 2022. He has twenty-two books of poetry, nonfiction, and fiction.
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Beau Beausoleil is a poet and activist based in San Francisco, California. His two most recent poetry chapbooks are Poems For Ukraine (Barley Books U.K., 2023) and War News, a free ebook published by Agitate! Journal (2023).
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Maya van Leeuwaarde is a poet and art historian based in Seattle, WA. With a historical background rooted in indentured servitude that brought her family to the United States, van Leeuwaarde’s poetry often weaves together considerations of historical interactions and social desires, drawing inspiration from her own communicative confusions. When she’s not writing, van Leeuwaarde is an active participant in the Seattle art scene, working front desk at the local museum or catching a hardcore show at a nearby dive bar.
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Ralph J. Long Jr. has authored two chapbooks, Polaroids at a Yard Sale (Main Street Rag Press, 2021) and A Democracy Divided (Poetry Box, 2018). His work has appeared in the anthologies Ambrosia: A Conversation About Food and Simpsonistas: Volume 4, as well as in the publications Cloudbank, Common Ground Review, Peregrine, Stoneboat Literary Journal, Scriblerus, Sisyphus, South 85 Journal, Ursa Minor, and Zingara Poetry Review. He lives in Oakland, California.
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Bill Friend’s books include The Feast of St. Mary Mackillop (BlazeVox, forthcoming) and American Field Couches (BlazeVox 2011). His recent work has appeared in Noon: A Journal of the Short Poem, Otoliths, and Unlikely Stories.
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