Member since October 19, 2011 | 1,823 Readings |
Shawna is a copywriter based in Portland, Oregon.
Our velocity is volatile. / I console you over the car console / with my mouth, but this / is no way to have a conversation. / You take…
Depart & Return: A Family Ritual
Sundays are mandated grievings. // Bodies of men suspended / between here and somewhere. / Women who sob through sharp tongues / and…
It surprises you like pulled weeds, the mailbox, level, and garbage taken out to the curb. It will not be deterred—even when your steps call for…
If I’m White
I am a dream-puffed cloud / / hogging the view / from above / an eggshell cracked too easily / a cony / soft and plump. …
For a second / / or two / there is nothing / but space / / / between us. / / When you are sunlight I / …
La Colección De La Abuela
Should you peek behind old, brown walls, you will see chickens and chairs, chickens and chairs. A reason to sit and a place to perch. To have too…
Subscribed by Shawna Harch
Bukowski started it, got drunk and picked a fight with John Muir. He didn’t want to fight for any ideological reason—it was just somehow what he…
Put me in the Pudding River when I am gone. / Let my mistakes melt into silt; / add a few minerals to the oak; / grow an acre of grass; / or float…
The Color of the Lake
My mother leaves a long message / on the phone machine, filling up the tape / with the colors of Lake Michigan. / Through vast picture windows /…
Lost should feel / Familiar by now / That lousy constant / Churning // The thing that tsks / In the corner // Comes for the ride / Everywhere…
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile?
Ink Node for a free account, or
if you are already a member.
I thought his name was Flotsam !
© Ink Node, 2019