2 poems

by Yaz Lancaster

Yaz Lancaster (b.1996) is a composer-performer and poet based in Brooklyn. Their poems have appeared in both print & online sources including Potluck Magazine, The Minetta Review, and three self-published collections. They hold degrees in music & poetry from NYU, where they are still attending for an M.M. in violin performance. You can find them on twitter @yazjanelle_ & instagram @newmusicbabe. 

familiar

after frank ocean

i didn’t care to state the plain.

the way u get into silence

conveys meaning. in my bad head

i rearrange everything

u never said from alluvion to zawn.

we lava ooze n cool. we summer

slowly in these bodies.
things fall chromatically
into a chord all around us, noted.

i get a lil crazy sometimes, noted.

like ‘can’t help myself’ holding
all the goo. we humming-
bird sip foxgloves. we small n not

worth the mention. in my bad head

i pretend it isn’t. all my feelings

n everything else obliterating.
all my feelings n everything else water-

color running. won’t text u
when i get home but we can talk
if i ever fall asleep.

every day the earth shrinks or maybe that’s called growing

 

 

before we were big we wanted to be

pioneers. there was a time


when we were made from some


mud, packs of crayons, a little hydrogen

 

peroxide & hot cedarwood.

summers were for the brown

 

apartment with the little window, fire

 

escape creaking, the one real green

 

green park that seemed


to sprout out of nowhere in the middle

 

of the city & listening to biggie.

             lounging at the barbecues

 

hanging on the avenues

collecting names like ‘samara fruit,’

 

‘tymbal,’ & ‘sweetgum.’


collecting names like lightning

 

bugs in small jars. I’m afraid

we’re running out of all the terra

 

incognita. sometimes the sun shows up

 

only to droop our eyelids & I don’t know

 

why I thought light would remain


pure when it’s so infinite.


there are things like holding


a shovel or tasting a plum


I still haven’t done yet.