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A lady has no past
A child doesn’t either. Listen, don’t you have sweeter elixirs than this to drown me with?…
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Will everything be okay?
Everything? No, not everything. Something will go sideways. Deadlines missed. Phone calls dropped. Words unsaid. Planes delayed.At best, you…
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How to ruin your reputation
First, be a poet. Speak only in rhyme, riddle, and metaphor until confusion melts the wax…
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An animal’s view on personal data
Months later, squirrels remember where acorns sleep. Siri, find my stash.
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An invitation
I know a place where time is green where weeping trees will wave hellowhere every face…
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“All free will is the biology we haven’t figured out yet.”
Inside I am not a steady tapping morse codebut a rising / falling tide of runoff…
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This is how the Spirit pleads
This is how the Spirit pleads: in flashing lines of poetry When prose is paved with…
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The road to hell is a roundabout
The road to hell is a roundabout The path a screeching left Your seat inside the…
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On knowing oneself through the process of elimination
I know exactly who I am which is to sayI know exactly who I am not.…
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Self-portrait in solitude, late January #1
She collects words and rocks them in her arms like a mother would her baby:Sallow, nighthawk,…
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Asking permission
Can I be frank? Can I howl to you at midnight when the moon is drunk…
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Dirge for a summer in Warren
An instinct to come, an instinct to golike birds to the south away from the snow…
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Horus the chameleon
Horus the chameleon has sneaky porous skin. He waves his pearly crystals and the magic poisons…
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Yet another personification of a battered heart
She picked the room with just enough space for two people and a poltergeist. She sat…
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Wallflowers in love
the best part about libraries is they, like you, are quiet but full of all the…
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Vignette in which nothing happens and everything happens at once
Alden Harris boarded the train, heading south and north and up and away all at the…
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Three years of forgetting
1. Yolk You enter the poem to remember who you are. Inside, the walls are dark…
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The picnic table
You don’t want the meal, you want the company. You want the collective chewing, the instinct…
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A girl is not a broom
A girl is not a broom. A broom is not a stomachache, nor the sound of…
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Automata
You are human only in the spaces between what is non-human: the clump of wet soil, …
Lizzy Burnam 🐞 