Free Verse
me, me, me. Top Story - February 2026.
when i read back my poetry it screams “me, me, me” on my screen in bold letters and i can’t shut it up — most days, i cannot make any other words out; i want to throttle a thousand versions of the me gone by, i want to throw myself from a figurative balcony, i want to sink a sword into every pen i’ve held
By angela hepworth9 months ago in Poets
mycelial
If I were a mushroom and you were a tree I would have found you already — threaded myself through the dark to where your roots reach down and wove myself in. They see my fruit. Beautiful enough to want, too dangerous to hold. But you would know what lives beneath — the web of me, moving through every dark and patient inch between us. I would bring you what the deep holds. You would give me light made solid. Neither of us would need a word for it — the forest never has. When you find me you won’t feel the finding, only that you always knew where your roots were going.
By Mina Carey9 months ago in Poets
