HeyJaredA Spiral Under
This is a living poetry book — unfolding in soft chapters, one poem at a time. Topic: life, memory, loss, in their many facets. You’re welcome to read, linger, comment, and subscribe if you wish to walk alongside it as it grows.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 26, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Sep 5, 2026
Latest issues
The Egg and the Earth Diver (opens the original)
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BeforeThere is oneAnd one is allAnd all is oneThenThere was an eggThe egg brokeWater fellBreath aroseWe named themWhen our timeturned:Welesmaster of wet and darkPerunlord of the sky and sparkThe light onewatched the eggshells sinkunder the dark wavesFaster than he could thinkwhat he couldn't gethe craves"Come, Weles,bring me half ofwhat is rightly mine"Thus Weles doveto gather chaffturned to sand grainsfine"This isn't what we c
The iguana tree (opens the original)
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Alek came wearing a black coatcovered all over in seeds.We kissed him, we held him,laughed like no time had passed,and he told us about a treegrowing behind his house,yellow as sunlight through green glassThe green iguanas loved that tree, he said.They came just to sit in it.Nothing more.They sat among its branchesas if sitting therewere enough.A few mornings laterI woke with something movingover my skin.Tiny feet.Tiny tails.A swarm of little iguanasresting on my arms,my stomach, my shoulders,wa
Not another colour drowned (opens the original)
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I stretched my life across a frameand left it white for what might come:orange mugs, a green door,the vulgar yellow of the sun.But all I found was one black bucket,thick with everything unsaid,and sticks that split inside my fingersevery time I tried to spread.By the time you came to find me,tar was filling up my mouth.You came with colour on your fingersfrom a life outside the numb:a blue pen mark across your thumb,a little red without a sin.I almost let you take my hand—then tar began to cross
no north (opens the original)
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I had a plan.I lost my path.I hid a map inside my head.I had a name for every year,but every road had left me bled.Don’t even fear what comes this turn.There is no north left in the needle.I have been walking toward the gray.There is no soul within this riddle.Of promise broken lays empty shell.Don’t tell me darkness makes stars brighter.I have stared; they do not care.It only pushes your vision tighter,to tunnels so small lungs cannot bear.All my chances went on livingin the people I might have
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