Category Archives: Poetry

Poetry by Vanlyn Turner-Ramsay

Pining;

I’d love to explore your inner mind if you found the time.

Our collective consciousness ever suffocating from the lack of breaths we take.

Forever the unknown;

Intimidate


 

Untitled;

hold me tight.

never let go

suffocate me right

until my body goes cold.

may your warm bones give me relief

from all of your meticulous mental grief

make me a new home

in the deceitful lies you throw

kiss me when I try to leave

and plead for my love on the phone.

call me weak when I weep;

abuse is all i’ve ever known

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Poetry by Kira Sabini

Some of My Favorite Things

Walking Mangata

in zyzygy

Sonder inspired mudita,

sonorously inspiring wonder,

Cherishing komorebi,

lightning and thunder

Chrysalism

Surrealism

Realism


A Season’s Greetings

A gust of blustering chill

Billows about

Dressed in Autumns leaves

Stout trees lean north then south

Echoing my sense of thrill

Passionate colors kaleidoscope across monochromatic skies

A priceless prize for biologically privileged eyes

Rustling, crunching, clonking

Moist and rich petrichor scents

A sense of winters coming

Sharpening immediate awareness

Allowing revelations press

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Autumn Rythm

Masha Jennings

 

Did              Know
You
That          Fall?
 Leaves
Do                Why
They
Die?
What         Life
Is          Them?
To
Many                Leaves
How
Fell
Number?               30
In
Strength         Lies            Enamel
In        Heavy
To/o        Hard
Stretch          Enough
“BoomBoom
BoomBoom
BoomBoom”*
You           Do
Weigh         Feather
As               Or         The
Dove?         Whole
Did
Never                     I     That
Think          How
You             Big            Be!
Could             So
drip
drop            drop           drop
drip            drop

 

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All The Same

Masha Jennings

 

Feeling like a colonist

I get the gist

You plant the corn

And I write silly poems

That’s it.

 

That’s it

The gist is that I write silly poems

About corn

And you live serious poems about breathing.

You draw a breath.

 

You draw a breath

I write a silly poem

About drawing a breath.

You live a silly poem about love

I laugh.

 

I laugh

At your suffering

And weep at

Your success.

What is success?

 

What is success

When we are

Burying those around us every day.

With dirt

All the same.

 

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Works by Masha Jennings

I want to be a Damsel

 

“You can’t be a damsel!”

“Why can’t I be a damsel?”

“You’re a eunuch.

Everyone knows that no one trusts eunuchs

Let alone loves them.”

“What of Nero?”

“What of Nero? He destroyed Rome!.”

“First, the Huns and Goths destroyed Rome;

Second, Nero never played the fiddle because they weren’t around yet;

Third, What if Rome needed destroying?”

“Preposterous you can’t be a damsel just because Rome needed destroying.”

 

“Why can’t I be a damsel?”

“Because you’re too male!”

“What of Prince Herbert?”

“Herbert was effeminate!”

“First, male and ‘effeminate’ are not mutually exclusive;

Second, Herbert was clearly still a male;

Third, what’s wrong with a femme male?”

“Well you can’t be a damsel just because there’s nothing wrong with being a femme male.”

 

“Why can’t I be a damsel?”

“Because you’re too Butch!”

“What of Fiona?”

“Fiona was a princess”

“First, Fiona was a badass;

Second, she was still a damsel;

Third, what if being a damsel has nothing to

To do with gender identity or expression?”

    “…”

“Fine be a damsel!”

“Thank you, I will.”

 


 

 

Divine Interventions

 

Run away up high

On a pout so loud

Least of all so loud

As the Goddess tears

Tears the clouds in twain

 

Sometimes a thing of stasis

Always illusory motion out of

That moment of hype

In a vacuum of TAP TAP TAP

 

The window candy glass breaks

Out of tune too quick

It broke last June

 

God, they saw you

Baseball in your fourth hand

Looking innocent on

The plane above

 

Engine sputtering

Falling far, far, far

Closer than the shave

I had this morning.

 

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In The Warmth of Other Beings

Konrad Kelly

 

You have to look on the good side of humanity,

For it is the only thing that is going to keep you going.

It’s too hard to be in a rut: alone and despairing,

You can’t truly live in fear when you feel like you’re dying.

You need the love of another one whose kindness will keep you going.

Their warmth is what someone as delicate as you needs to feel so deeply and so humbly.

I beg for love in the times of sentimental woe with the sounds of the violins and the low cellos.

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Someone Else’s Problem

Evelyn McLean

 

torn between need-not-be-seen
and need-not-make-scene

the sort of things I am arguing about
in the shower or when I’m

in public with my eyes closed
trying to be alone  

on the bus you don’t know
where neutral is. I don’t know

if it’s a myth or if she’s already looking outside
a blur making you sick and dizzy

Always mostly when I’m by herself

as when I were in the bathroom
Washing our hands. Looking in the mirror. Noticing things in

the way only
you can notice when
you’re not an object
forced to see the body as if
from another vantage point
exactly the way someone else wouldn’t
notice
so you can’t
either

You try saying it out loud
seeing it out loud

see? I always
sounds like someone else’s problem

once you get it home
the moment disowns you
you see yourself in the mirror
outside is outside
and who knows what it really was
anyway and
as always it’s over now

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A Spiral Walked in Poem

Rachel Larrowe

  1. Center.

Only one person crosses the square at a time. There is mud caked on my boots. When the sun finally emerges, my left cheek feels hot as summer.

 

  1. In front.

The earth beneath me is soft, wet. I like listening to space. Hopeful, hesitant. Mostly wondering. Continue reading

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These Landscapes

Konrad Kelly

Landscapes of Beauty,

Landscapes of Madness,

These caverns you left within my mind,

Are deep and hollow,

Lost in time.

Worn are they,

Into the mountain.

Torn are they,

By the rock.

Tugged are they,

By the root which longs for longing.

Too hard are they that cannot break,

The landscape in me is too deep to take.

Far too dark to be beheld or seen.

Because the melancholy you instilled in me runs deep.

The waters are still and too murky to keep.

I am draped with stalactites that won’t cease to weep,

Tears from the years that are frozen in time.

Empty me out into your hollow surroundings,

For I am empty,

There is nothing left inside.

For all you shall find are these landscapes.

Landscapes of Beauty,

Landscapes of Madness.

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Bitter

Konrad Kelly

I won’t talk with you even if the sun turns dry.
I may cry but somehow I know I won’t even try.
Why?
Because the melancholy you instilled in me is too great to carry.
Sour are the silhouettes of lonely passers by,
These streets know only the tears of lovers once at joy with the sun.
Mist here now carries on all too long,
Dark violet are the shades of these corner windows shops.
Peeled are the bark on aged Madronas,
And gasoline and cigarette stench will meet the afternoon vagabond.
Here I hold my tears in petty fear of strangers.
Resonating a semblance of sanity in the shadow of other beings.
Why? Why you may ask?
Because I’m bitter, bitter as this world, and maybe you’ll understand…

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