Member since October 19, 2011 | 2,052 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
Still the Little Princess
If you turn your head away from the pain // you can count the things around you now / that are good, the things you trust / that are goodness. / …
My poems have been ugly, personal, // carried by a willingness to humor, / to delay a mouthful of death. / / Reborn as cake or carbon, / I am…
music ends next week // radios will look dumb / jukeboxes impossible to explain // colored vinyl pretty but mysterious / tell your kids that justin…
The Anxiety of New Revelation
Not trained by ancient Asian wisdom, / my conversation is hokey; pokey; flawed / by guffawed anecdotes, insecurities and abruptions. / Timing is…
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I thought his name was Flotsam !
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