Author: Dane Lyn

Dane Lyn (they/them) is a neurospicy, genderqueer, disabled, educator, poet, and glitter enthusiast in a love-hate relationship with Los Angeles, where they reside. Dane has an MFA from Lindenwood University, a ridiculous collection of succulents, and four scavenger hunt runner up ribbons. Dane’s work can be seen in Quillkeepers, Gnashing Teeth, Gutslut, and Imposter. Their debut chapbook by bottlecap press, “bubblegum black,” was released in early 2023 with rave reviews from their mom. They are on social media @punkhippypoet.

Opal Age Tribune

night monster

Lucky 8 Marathon

heresy of paraphrase after Untitled, by Franz Kline (USA) 1960

paraphrase is to say the same thing in less words / yet we attempt to suss meaning
from / a poem, a painting, / a sculpture. / it is impossible / the exact nuance / the artist is
trying to convey
we each experience creative works from our own perspective / in this experience the
meaning of art lies, / the essence of the thing is the thing, / it is a sacred other worldly
thing, / goes beyond intent / intertwines with it / rumples the sheets and stays the night.

Do Geese See God?

dove dive bombs

you want surrender,

I want to war with peace itself.

peace is uninterested, unimpressed, and unmoving.

peace is an even number waiting to be divided.

peace says til death do us part.

peace says stay put.

peace says you don’t need to look at the dead, stagnating under feet.

peace says there is no price too high.

peace says all this in a measured response to my scream.

throat scabbed over from repeated battle cries,

“never surrender.”

Wishbone Words

anatomy of a body without lies

feet that tell you when to get off them,

legs that say, hey bending me that way will hurt down the road,

hips that tell the world how to treat you.

ears hear that whistle in the dark and say “run,”

vulva that speak of shame.

a uterus that begs him to stop.

arms that say how often they really need to hug,

hands that want credit for the words they create,

ribcage shouts “I’m so tired of protecting this tender heart.”

mouth that stays silent, because in truth no one is listening.

Academy of The Heart and Mind

launchpad

Earth is broken,
I want to                leave
find me     
                 waiting       

my disassembled launch pad
buried under dot matrix print-out instructions 
tools 
                                   somewhere

beam me up and away,
might be stranded           here   on
a planet                   that mocks
me

coordinates hazy
         but that’s a risk worth taking
to fly up and away 
because 

Earth is broken,
I want to                leave
find me
            find me

Academy of The Heart and Mind

doomed beautiful thing

after Hal Fischer’s “Bobby at the Beach”

his tenuous hold on life as delicate as any doomed beautiful thing 
beach soothing rough edges,
grinding rock to sand, and sand to dust, and dust to skin.
cotton in negative, a whirlwind
packed into those pockets, silver 
dreams blown across the waves.
grinding dreams to ash, and ash to stardust, and stardust to glitter.
a sparkling dissipation across oceans
and he will come again to this beach
leaving bread crumb trails of his longings
until his pockets are empty.

Academy of The Heart and Mind

keep out

after Olga Rozanova’s “Abstract Composition (Color-painting)”

please keep your hands and arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times
please keep your thoughts and insights inside your pretty little head 
please keep tabs on your sensuality 
please keep your story straight
please keep up appearances 
please keep
please keep
keep away
keep breathing keep breathing keep breathing
keep your weight off my shoulders 
I’m keeping score
I’m keeping my middle fingers in the sky