• Jan Avellana



saunters in,

like a rude house guest

who forgets her key at 2 am--

tracking in mud,

leaving her sandals strewn about,

letting the screen door


behind her.

~ j. avellana


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the wild perhaps

yesterday, i opened up the drawer— where my will-o’-the-wisps sleep letting my fingers feel for the frayed edges of a small gauze parcel, i unbound the wrappings, exposing scraps of soot covered snipp

untitled 2

meet me under the soft moon, when the fruitless fingers almost touch the ground-- weary with waiting and sorrow. we can breathe then-- and utter all the unsayable things that words could never say. ~

the answers you seek

the answers you seek are waiting for you in the poems you are too afraid to write. ~ j. avellana

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