HeyJaredlaineyscronk
Space between trees. Ordinary paperclip poetry. The work of seeing people.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Oct 1, 2026
- Audience
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- Earliest in this view
- Aug 14, 2026
Latest issues
Traveling (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThere’s something so porcelain And also velvet About a cattle egret In flight under late morning blue. The tips of her wings like my collected fingers, Scooping a place out of sky, Bringing in the harvest of air That carries me from water to water. <a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!2yaF!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2F
Because this body (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI. Can you love your body until it brings you home? II. The near boat of yourself is slapping crookedly against jagged little waves, the hatches loose and crannies suspect with invasive species. But that far boat, that is also yours – it has a new brown sail and travels sweetly between blue and blue. And did you know that on the other side of continents another vessel of yourself collects starlight – or am I thinking of the
Rising (opens the original)
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Sparked by conversation with Sharolyn for her “Rising” projectText within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI have always been, slowly making my way toward the sky and other tender places. Sometimes the wind says “Now!” and unexpected elasticity of limb lets me pluck a spiraled sparrow from the gust and carry her &#
Forward Fold (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedInversion, they say: great for the brain. Look down at this place of floor, nose unusually near toes, or close your eyes and feel that perfect balance where the weight of your own body holds itself in opposition, folded together, letting everything hang back into place, bones settling out long and quiet like this tipping point where life flows effortlessly between self and ground, ground and self, your head performing the sm
On Moving (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedLoneliness comes ‘round and ‘round, but the strands and the roots and the woven light will be here too, a dance of textures like those that stop me sometimes in a small-town art gallery, the light of being human gleaming in sorrow and humor from a gap between old nail holes, cheap frames. Next time, the puzzle pieces – the stories told – might line up differently, plonk out a new one-finger tune. Next time, we might ask if s
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