Poetry from Yaz Lancaster

Photo: Anderson Rian


Many words were invented by sisters dusted
in candlelight and brilliance. ​Gallivant. Fervent.
One of them probably said “I know not
of war but its violence. It’s slick in that way.”
Ceremonial. Jurisdiction.​ I think I want to experience
religion, just one really good time. ​Apathy.​ The moon
belongs so much in poems because she is so beautiful
in the dark, like many other complications. Sieve. Stone.
At night it’s hard to believe that headlights are no less
blinding than sand. Sieve. Stone. Stone. Stone.

Yaz Lancaster (they/them) is an interdisciplinary artist interested in fragments & relational aesthetics. Yaz plays violin, thinks about politics of liberation, and sometimes writes poetry; and their work has been called “warm” & “crunchy.” They have other poems in mags like Afternoon Visitor & Peach Mag (where they are the visual arts editor). They hold degrees in music & writing from New York University. Yaz loves horror movies, chess & bubble tea.

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