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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. 


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.

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