By Hand

January 19, 2015 | 0 Comments

Anyway, this weekend I bought a multicolored twelve-pack of new pens, and you guys, I laid them out on the couch and rolled around in them. So freaking sexy. [...continue...]

2014 Year in Review (everybody else is doing it)

December 30, 2014 | 0 Comments

Last selfie of 2014? Maybe! Hello, my beautiful wintertime darlings! As 2014 draws to a close, everybody is doing Facebook posts and blog entries about their year in review. I was grumpy at first and was all, “My 2014 was dumb. I’m not writing one of those.”Because this year has [...continue...]

Merry Christmas to Me! A poem published at SOUND!

December 24, 2013 | 0 Comments

A poem of mine, called “Broad Strokes,” went up on Friday over at Sound Lit Mag, a publication on contemporary music-poetics, and I’m super-excited! This magazine is so smart it makes my ears hurt. And they published me! Squee! Please, do go [...continue...]

Lily Myers: “Shrinking Women”

October 17, 2013 | 0 Comments

Oh. Em. Gee. To anyone who’s confused about the nuances of what feminists often call “male privilege,” check out this spoken word poem, “Shrinking Women,” by Lily Myers. This. It’s this. So much [...continue...]

Insomnia: A Poemy Thing by Lynsey G

October 10, 2013 | 0 Comments

Insomnia It is difficult to hold anything when your bones are made of chalk, when each footstep upstairs jangles like a trumpet blast. Alone in the living room, I lengthen the house’s soft gurgles into the slavering maw of the monster in my shadow, biting its cuticles. In the bedroom, you [...continue...]

Ode to the New York Subway

August 21, 2013 | 0 Comments

(Subway tunnel image from gentside.com) I wrote a long and totally over-the-top poetic ode to the New York subway system, you guys. It’s on Luna Luna Magazine. I kind of love it in the way I also love watching Interview with the Vampire. It’s filthy and there’s way too much lace, [...continue...]

A Litany for Survival

March 7, 2013 | 0 Comments

I can’t believe I’ve never read this before. Mind = blown. For those of us who live at the shoreline standing upon the constant edges of decision crucial and alone for those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between [...continue...]
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