There were three of them. Mostly girls. I don’t really know where the last one falls on the spectrum. They had eyes. dreams. Dreams they could see with those eyes. Dreams of stealing things that they only dreamed of. Sometime they were told they couldn’t have which is why they became everything they didn’t want to be.
Kasey
a clouded mine
and fever dreams
of stolen items
and stolen memories
thoughts i knew i had
once
and things
that
im never sure
if they happened or not
if they were just dreams
the memories of someone else
implanted in my mind
They snuck out late into the night and took what they could carry. They never took anything valuable enough to be missed. Small portions of food, jugs of water. Clothes or blankets from garages. They never took anything of tangible value. But for the families that did recognize the absence of food or material, the thieves stole the most valuable thing- a sense of safety.
they are bad because they can kill you. they take everything from you, most precious stuff
not that stuff is valuable but it is yours
so they create chaos
and they come into your house at night. I guess it is quite scary to see their shadow approaching your bed
you are not sure whether you are dreaming or not
Ioana
¿Alguna vez ha mentido,
para obtener algo que no merecía,
y niegan a otra persona lo que habían ganado?
Entonces, todos somos ladrones, carteristas, y los malos
Por lo tanto, no vaya a considerar a sí mismos como más inocente.
-Un Ratero
El Ratero
professional THIEVES
not always hidden by masks
they smirk in plain sight
taking from the poor
and rich alike at a whim
they’re politicians!!
! Haiku-Man !
The thieves came in the night, stealing all the people’s gold and silver and all manner of precious things. That was okay though, because they were Mormons and believed in treasures in heaven.
Thieves. There are many different types of them. Some merely steal to survive or help there loved ones. Others will steal for valuables that they do not need or for greed. You cannot immediately judge someone by there occupation, but the reason behind it.
Leyna Huynh
like thieves,
quiet and stalking,
thin like shadows at
noon.
folding into my
thoughts,
crusting around my
heart.
like thieves,
always taking
and hollowing out.
Devin
remembering those that have taken, private moments and privacy from me.
there exist those thieves among us
who take license with women’s bodies.
they respect no consequence
and travel in dark shadows,
hidden with smiles, normal jobs, respectable titles.
and yet,
underneath it all,
those that would take someone’s sense of self, their place, their security.
beware the lurkers, the thieves, the persons of so little moral standing,
that it is okay to remove dignity, personhood, stability
with so little hesitation
By spring, she would be dead. But today she was more alive than she’d been in a long time, taking her time putting things away and doing nothing. All along, she’d known that things would get better; that the bad things would go away and the good things would come back. This is how life works. She’d never known it to be otherwise; who could ever say that her life had been perfect. When she thought about that afternoon now, it seemed as though it should’ve happened to someone else. She wasn’t the type that terrible disasters happened to; nor was she one for great, unspeakable joy. Always only in the middle of these things. On that day, she was doing nothing out of the ordinary. Walking to the market, thinking about what she was going to buy for the week’s meals. Wondering about nothing more than how she would cook these things and whether or not he would like them. If she thought about it, she recalled feeling happy that morning. No reason. Just happy. And what sticks out to her now, the way small things do when disaster is large, is how strange the front room looked to her when she came home. She couldn’t imagine what was in front of her. The couch, fallen over like a dead animal; everything strewn around the room, like a wild wind had visited.
ruby
like thieves we steal away into the night carrying nothing but our burdens and the collective sigh of “Getting away”– we steal our lives back, our souls back, our freedom. We are wanted for the things that are rightfully ours, the things that were never theirs to begin with. Our pockets full of the money of our own labors. Please be aware, we are taking nothing that was not ours.
Cortney
The waves broke slowly, still slumbering in the dull haze of a winter’s morning. Above her head, the gulls wheeled, vulture-like, cawing. With a hollow sigh, she lifted the silvered trinket in her hand to her eyeline. Not worth stealing.
There were three of them. Mostly girls. I don’t really know where the last one falls on the spectrum. They had eyes. dreams. Dreams they could see with those eyes. Dreams of stealing things that they only dreamed of. Sometime they were told they couldn’t have which is why they became everything they didn’t want to be.
a clouded mine
and fever dreams
of stolen items
and stolen memories
thoughts i knew i had
once
and things
that
im never sure
if they happened or not
if they were just dreams
the memories of someone else
implanted in my mind
They snuck out late into the night and took what they could carry. They never took anything valuable enough to be missed. Small portions of food, jugs of water. Clothes or blankets from garages. They never took anything of tangible value. But for the families that did recognize the absence of food or material, the thieves stole the most valuable thing- a sense of safety.
they are bad because they can kill you. they take everything from you, most precious stuff
not that stuff is valuable but it is yours
so they create chaos
and they come into your house at night. I guess it is quite scary to see their shadow approaching your bed
you are not sure whether you are dreaming or not
¿Alguna vez ha mentido,
para obtener algo que no merecía,
y niegan a otra persona lo que habían ganado?
Entonces, todos somos ladrones, carteristas, y los malos
Por lo tanto, no vaya a considerar a sí mismos como más inocente.
-Un Ratero
professional THIEVES
not always hidden by masks
they smirk in plain sight
taking from the poor
and rich alike at a whim
they’re politicians!!
The thieves came in the night, stealing all the people’s gold and silver and all manner of precious things. That was okay though, because they were Mormons and believed in treasures in heaven.
The thieves crawled into that dark, dank tomb,
thin as thieves, thick as family
Thieves. There are many different types of them. Some merely steal to survive or help there loved ones. Others will steal for valuables that they do not need or for greed. You cannot immediately judge someone by there occupation, but the reason behind it.
like thieves,
quiet and stalking,
thin like shadows at
noon.
folding into my
thoughts,
crusting around my
heart.
like thieves,
always taking
and hollowing out.
remembering those that have taken, private moments and privacy from me.
there exist those thieves among us
who take license with women’s bodies.
they respect no consequence
and travel in dark shadows,
hidden with smiles, normal jobs, respectable titles.
and yet,
underneath it all,
those that would take someone’s sense of self, their place, their security.
beware the lurkers, the thieves, the persons of so little moral standing,
that it is okay to remove dignity, personhood, stability
with so little hesitation
By spring, she would be dead. But today she was more alive than she’d been in a long time, taking her time putting things away and doing nothing. All along, she’d known that things would get better; that the bad things would go away and the good things would come back. This is how life works. She’d never known it to be otherwise; who could ever say that her life had been perfect. When she thought about that afternoon now, it seemed as though it should’ve happened to someone else. She wasn’t the type that terrible disasters happened to; nor was she one for great, unspeakable joy. Always only in the middle of these things. On that day, she was doing nothing out of the ordinary. Walking to the market, thinking about what she was going to buy for the week’s meals. Wondering about nothing more than how she would cook these things and whether or not he would like them. If she thought about it, she recalled feeling happy that morning. No reason. Just happy. And what sticks out to her now, the way small things do when disaster is large, is how strange the front room looked to her when she came home. She couldn’t imagine what was in front of her. The couch, fallen over like a dead animal; everything strewn around the room, like a wild wind had visited.
like thieves we steal away into the night carrying nothing but our burdens and the collective sigh of “Getting away”– we steal our lives back, our souls back, our freedom. We are wanted for the things that are rightfully ours, the things that were never theirs to begin with. Our pockets full of the money of our own labors. Please be aware, we are taking nothing that was not ours.
The waves broke slowly, still slumbering in the dull haze of a winter’s morning. Above her head, the gulls wheeled, vulture-like, cawing. With a hollow sigh, she lifted the silvered trinket in her hand to her eyeline. Not worth stealing.