There’s a sour taint in the air

from all the things that went bad…

between us –

things left out in the rain

and unsecured in the storm

All projectiles

leaving us bent


and punctured inside

but my eyes are dry somehow…

– Jen 


(This came to me at 1am…like so many other pieces. My sleep usually consist of rest and poetry.)


…again I bite 
Wanting to taste a particular flavour
One I’d only just forgotten
One I wanted to remember
Neglecting the hook
Oblivious to my bleeding
Some messages are best sent in blood…
Are you reading?
– Jen

…more stones than flowers in the garden
Gashing my heel, stubbing my toes
If you feel my pain then follow
Find me underneath the willows
Where the water ceases to run
Where I bleed each word I write
Turning the river black with profundity
And the piranhas are frenzied at the sight.

– Jen