Elementia time

Writing

Familiar Hands

By Oli Ray

Time’s hands are surprisingly familiar for all the change they bring. Their grasp is a feeling we all know and yet always seem to forget until they put us a down.


What time Is It?

By Patrick Barry

“Within the surface of the fleeting river the wrinkled image of the city lay.” I stopped and observed this for some time deep in thought about how much I wanted a gas-powered sweater. Sadly, being a stand up comedian, I had little or no money.


The City

By Hana Spangler

Before time was invented, there was a city. Half of the city was as light as day, and the other half was as dark as night.


time like falling snow

By Skylar Pappenfort

Memories, oh memories those fine grains of sand Escape between your fingers to the beating of the band Murmuring in harmony upon a demure heart Oh what a lovely pas de deux in which we find our part Rows of fleeting smiles and a million bluebird skies Intent on brightly shining as they pass befor


Story of the Stone

By Blaire Ginsburg

Minor fissures, Just hairline cracks, Spread slowly At first, Fine lines on a Smooth surface; Creeping across a Marble plain, Barely making A sound, but Marking - scarring - All the same. See here, where The lines turn At odd angles and Bend to meet, but Never touch. Traces like veins, Telling di


Variable

By SJ Dahms

They say that time is a constant, In math world it is an unchanging letter k.  But I say that it becomes a variable, A perfect letter x.  Time can be carefully controlled, ceaseless, A cascading current. But time becomes elastic, expendable, An extraordinary extreme. We can not change the flow of


MAP Testing

By Stephanie Kontopanos

“Take all the time you need,” They said. But now I’d much rather be in bed, Because I’m 76 today. My life is beginning to fade away. “Take all the time you need,” They said. I hope you’re happy. Now I’m dead.


Jasmine People

By Emma Olinger

On a Friday in the middle of January at about 12:30 in the afternoon, a little less than 10 people occupy the Chinese Cuisine. Among the nail salon, the boutique, and the FedEx office, it waits for customers.


Mother Time

By Anonymous

Between her slender fingers she pivots the earth Amused by how the blues and greens twirl We let the motion power us Letting it rock us and push us, haunt us and slow us. Our lives are dictated by her constant motion. A motion beautifully blind to us.


Time’s Beauty

By Willow Vaughn

Time is a girl with curly hair that bounces with every step and twirl she takes She talks with her hands but never fails to find the right word to say She can be by your side one second and gone the next Getting lost in the crowd is fun to her She is bipolar with moods that seem too intense to ha


Lover of Time

By Willow Vaughn

I seduced Time I brought her thorny flowers, held her worn hands and kissed her softly I caressed her flushed cheeks and played with her hair, long like a timeline I ran my hands along her battle-won scars and her strong but delicate body I buried my face in her neck and left little marks there,


The Girl and The Timeless Wood

By Renee Born

In a far distant and long forgotten land, there stands a great forest. An ancient power is said to live within, fed into the earth through deep and powerful roots. The vastness of the strange forest covers a mountain from its base to its peak, brushing the clouds.


Little Time

By Renee Born

The night was warm and a blue haired girl sat alone at a bar. She was at one end, trying to catch a glimpse of a woman sitting opposite, a woman with long dark hair and caramel skin. Robyn knew her from somewhere, she was sure of it.


11:54

By Nora Larson

Vanessa and I talk. We like talking. The smell of acetone and wine fight in the warm air. A lull of Avett Brothers music fills the silence. Our nail beds burn, from too many attempts at “Nail Art”. The clock reads 11:54 pm. Tears trek down our beautiful faces. Sniffles out of place for the humid


A Living Anachronism

By Amanda Pendley

As the years go by and we outgrow our old faces and our old skin and our old identities,  I wonder to myself if we are really becoming new people at all,  or if we are simply just accumulating more years and more selves  the same way we layer our bodies with coats and scarves in the wintertime.


disillusioned revolutions

By Hailey Alexander

The clock glares at me, with the steady accusations of her hands – Where will you be In an hour,  In a day,  In a year?

Her disillusioned clicks and clocks sear into my brain as I stare back at her, trying to gain control of her calculated revolutions.


4 a.m.

By Magda Werkmeister

a house can feel like a whole world when you’re lying in your bed at 4 a.m., too early to rise in a coup against the lingering stars, too late for the soft black of the backs of eyelids to last long enough, light switch flipped up so as not to have to stare at the dark but staring at the slow mea


Hourglass

By Elizabeth Joseph

I break down in the supermarket grocery aisles because I only have five minutes to make the choice between a variety of granola bars.