Lizzy Burnam 🐞

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  • 10 species of pleasure

    1. The one that purrs (…) 2. The slash-and-burn (…)3. The igloo (…)4. The raw coconut…

  • Every fantasy reveals a fear we’re trying to confront

  • The grief of love

    There’s an inherent grief felt in falling in love: the grief of small spaces demolished into…

  • A conversation with time

    go on, let it happen— what? —the needle, the stars, the smoke you’re chasing. ‘chasing’ is…

  • Home remedies

    When all that’s changed is your mood, I have trouble believing you’ve swallowed the right pill.…

  • Wildstyle

    The art of love meets the art of war and a black hole forms from one…

  • Cento for the end of Spring

    How do I quell the place that built me?I ask this, who am myself the ruined…

  • Said the dummy to the ventriloquist

    Ain’t that the gimmick?There, the ventriloquist in her element, tooth-locked like a good egomaniac waiting to…

  • 3 lessons from the future

    First things first, you gotta know how to land. Learn to bend before you burst. You…

  • If I could give one piece of advice to young poets and writers, it’d be this

    Write about joy. Many artists have a tendency to fetishize negativity, because conflict is interesting and…

  • Heaven is a bird’s nest

    I remain convinced that heaven is a bird’s nest, braided grass and twine embedded sturdily in…

  • Obligations in love

    Don’t think about his addictions, or yours. Be flexible about the dog breed, the restaurant, and…

  • Atalaya Mountain

    Atalaya Mountain

    Just warm enoughfor the horny toads to go roasting; just cool enough for you, while the…

  • Ode to old ladies

    Old lady keeps a cookie tin full of buttons in the back of her car after…

  • A good memory is one trained to forget

    I once met a millwright in a basement-level cocktail bar in Omaha, Nebraska. The bartender offered…

  • 3 (a study)

    Three vertical wisps of smoke On the eastern mountain rangeThe midnight washerwomen At the water’s edgeOne…

  • The poet is a mirror

    Look—the poet can’t help but be a mirror, and the mirror can’t be anything but honest.…

  • 5 answers to the same question

    1.Because even the birds have their languageand they use it without hesitation,singing honest songs at pertinent…

  • Hell’s waltz

    The devil on my back Has seven pseudonyms His jackal hides his mask He cries an…

  • Edelweiss

    it’s the lonely peaks for me the points I return to when I’m muscled back into…

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