Layne Ransom continues to exist. She is a former poetry editor of the Bat City Review and has poetry and nonfiction published or forthcoming in North American Review, Quaint Magazine, Pinwheel, and others. Layne lives in Austin, Texas.

2 poems

by Layne Ransom

Queen


 

I go on flights

 

inside myself

 

wishing for a place with black deer

 

and snow

 

where I could make little soups

 

and every day,

 

put on different-colored legs



 

I would be a voyager

 

and walk below lonely structures of importance,

 

murmuring about axolotls

 

while the rain hesitates



 

I would fishtail the wind

 

into my hair



 

I would look from under my sea-gray hood

 

at everything that breathes, all of us


 

carrying stars in our crotches



 

 

 

 

Discontinued Thunder


 

Under a shadow                      I grow

ten million antlers

 

out of my nipples                    I witness

the annihilation of foxes

 

whoops              there is dust                we know

so little               we know       what

 

capitalist decay            the lightning

 

bugs face          there on the lake         a clusterfuck

of geese

 

they are crying             there are no prayers

left in the world

 

there are no church moms left

chaperoning                 the high school dance

 

I drink                 stuff               from a bloated

tree                     it is late

 

the moon has not been cleared

of asbestos

                                                                 the moon looks to me for answers

 

idiot                     what do I have in my hand       oh

it is a spooky                little fish                           made of wheat