Category Archives: Poetry

Poetry by Vanlyn Turner-Ramsay


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;




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

Tagged ,

Poetry by Kira Sabini

Some of My Favorite Things

Walking Mangata

in zyzygy

Sonder inspired mudita,

sonorously inspiring wonder,

Cherishing komorebi,

lightning and thunder




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

Tagged ,

Autumn Rythm

Masha Jennings


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


Tagged ,

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.


Tagged ,

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.


Tagged ,

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.

Tagged ,

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
so you can’t

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

Tagged ,

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


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.

Tagged , ,


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.
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…

Tagged , ,
%d bloggers like this: