Poetry.

I write to explore the unspoken, what’s not said, the tangled longings, the truths we sidestep in daylight.

My words often find their way to the page in search of meaning, connection, or simply the ache of being human.

It’s about the words that don’t leave me alone. The ones that linger in the air after a conversation ends. Floating until I can catch them and bring them to the page. The ones that demand to be written.

I live between worlds, the analytical and the emotional, the structured and the lyrical.

Breaking the confines of traditional poetry, Jennifer’s speculative poems and short story poems channel the truth of our lives as we connect with ourselves and the world around us.

By removing almost all punctuation and lowercase constraints, the words sit on the page, inviting the reader to sit in the empty space or the "drift" right alongside her.

Enjoy the chaos and truth. And thank you for reading.

  • pointy things

    boba tea straws gladiola ends canine teeth redvines neighbors who don't stop and talk to you as they walk past you on the sidewalk tongues (maybe those are forked) dating apps the soul of elon musk the shard the news the climate war love lust nostalgia pain joy recklessness solitude icicles, obviously the exoskeleton of that cicada on my mailbox spock truth vagaries this poem

  • Woman in a white dress swimming underwater in a pool.

    gulp

    Published in Scuzzbucket, Oct 2024. Read the full poem.

  • prose poem #1

    They each were as they have always been. I sing out to them ‘my spirit is jaundiced is this why you have come’? They say nothing. The cornflowers ripple as the tall grass sways in an infinitesimal breeze. I want them to step towards me no, I need them to step towards me. step towards me, I shout across the meadow, but no sound comes only the echo of my words wrapping around vocal cords silencing the sound,

    The tall grass of the meadow wriggles around them urging them to motion
    but they seem as happy as if they were clouds waiting to release their moisture. The clouds are gods changing our moods as they roll across a sea blue sky. One shape, then another catching the gaze of one person as they look up to question their existence in a world already locked in a digital eternity

    Enjoy prose poem #1 on Substack.

  • Steel wool spinning creating sparks and light trails in an industrial setting at night.

    ring of fire

    published in Scuzzbucket.

    Read the full story poem here.