Nomad-Poet Girl Em

Poet Girl Em

dissecting earth
into vanishing patterns
geometric footsteps
etch hexagons
into slipping crust
wading groin deep
in labradorite cracks
iridescent shimmer shines
blues and greens
like your eyes
that eye the sky
wondering is it your next
unexplored terrain
untethered domain
every star
a city
every map pin
is home

the compass
it misguides the guide
what lies outside
must be found
first inside
close your mind
stop time
stop predicting
breathe and point
you will find
what you need awaits
in unknown formations
where you need
you won’t know
until your feet land
until your wings

~ Em C.


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RamJet Poetry


An unearthly visage set in grim mask. It seems words come everyday, every way. Something happens; I know not what. Majesty or tragedy. Traffic. I feel it gathering, like dust in antique store, West Texas. Blind as a fool in a hurricane wind. Some other sense pulling. My soul grows restless and time of change is coming.

Caress the pattern. Observe the mystery of sigla that speak of kings, mountains, wars, rivers, home. A key to some greater meaning. Criminal that we cannot find it. Shopping malls and hospices. Kerosene on my fingers. The smell of orange and cardamom.

Something is coming, thickening the air. Tangible. I can almost touch it. A saviour is coming. A killer stalking. A conflict. Lost in interpretations. Things become more difficult. It is not unlike navigating a swamp. The emptiness in life is consuming. A diner on an old highway in Montana. I cannot…

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Quenching-Candice Louisa Daquin/The Feathered Sleep



puts me at peace

lying propped up, one elbow jutting

one foot lolling out of damp sheets

curled in a knot of former movement

the wind outside is hitting moss covered shingles

like it wants to join in

clouds swirl like drunken sailors over-head

she has a strange gait

as if unsure of being girl or boy

yet her legs are as straight as a dancers

envious I suspect of my curves

the tattoo that begs to be planed

for every vein and every vessel

we are ever waiting to reach deeper

the fusion of two lovers

one defying gravity with breasts like pinches

mocking those half her age who struggle to stay


the other a drunk without bottle

swimming in fear and loathing

tempered sometimes by her steady hand

pulling me to discomfort

where pier lights wink til past the witching hour

relieved nobody burning needs

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I Was Always More of a Dragon than a Singing Dove-Hannah Wagner/The Hero’s Inferno

The Hero's Inferno

I never could flutter through life

My arrival left more of a quake

You with your milky skin were a symbol of peace

but I always inspired more of an unsettling feeling

I brought the warmth down to you but then I always went so overboard and fire burns

I just wanted to be a protector, I didn’t mean for those to fall who crossed my territory

You and your calm stream me and my boiling ocean

You hum a tune that puts the world to sleep

But I was rocking and rolling I woke the neighbors

You left no trace of yourself and I left a trail of rubble behind

I was a lover too I just wasn’t as graceful about it

© Hannah Munroe

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