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