Poet & hybrid-form enthusiast drawn to soft things with sharp edges: plants with inner lives, bodies that won’t behave, & the absurd comedy of daily life. Best of the Net–nominee. Poems in The Hopper, Tiny Seed Lit., Plants & Poetry, and elsewhere.
Paige Ryan
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my sister sent me this snapshot from inside my 8-year-old niece’s brain and I’m like: yes. the poetry gene lives on.
Paige Ryan
Paige Ryan
Spring seems like a good time to revisit this poem, originally published in a Plants & Poetry House anthology. If you haven’t heard of them and you’re a nature enthusiast, consider this a sign and go check them out!
🚂
Don’t count your chickens.
There’s nothing to do. Only a full commitment to being.
[If you’re also in need of this mantra, well, there it is]
I’m not sure when I became the strange woman that walks through the park petting trees but I’m not exactly mad about it. Isn’t it nice? How soft the leaves are as newborns.
from “be here to love me at the end of the world” by sasha fletcher ☁️☁️
A record of the thaw.
ever thought about how, like bark, our skin is simply a surface being lived in?
