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Jessica Lee McMillan

Poetry and Prose

 
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Sky Panes

The bridge tower vaults and church spire hangs under the day moon conversing on altitude with steel-boned views bridge cables and cross...

Before Your Eyes

Disappearances happen before your eyes. The pupils are not apertures or ghost containment units. Even the sun cannot see oxygen eaten up...

Intertidal

I close my eyes at the golden hour, smell salt sweet pine I become quicksilver sea shapes and the umber of inter-tide, I am the kelp...

Lemonade Day

When I passed the lemonade stand, I passed my childhood, late August on the sidewalk, next to the church with humble interior walls,...

Forensics

Hands in motion smudge surfaces unforgiving of polish We groove and light life’s glass of shifting images with our living fingerprints...

Accidental Sunflower

Somehow a patch of sunflowers bloomed from the street corner — a concrete wedge of dog waste baggies, trash from the cannabis shop and...

Reclaim

Tendrils reclaim a wall of their own, sun beggars up the chain link locking small climates of beauty in frame. The meadow pops up in...

God’s Eye

Our lines connecting points of light orchestrate a puppetry of constellations chalking our wish trajectories in the sky Our hopes are a...

The Shape of a Poem

A sonnet “A poem by me needs to be a host of images….Each image holds within it the seed of its own destruction” — Dylan Thomas* The...

Wind-buffered

sky-gathered water sculpts overhead leaves in spoons your face with refraction impasto and you are the unwitting subject in the art of...

ROYGBIV

Memory is a basement carpeted in orange and brown, electronics warm, vinyl cords in rainbow of 7 colours 7 notes in analog polyphony...

The Business of Living

Becoming a robot is trading out each rogue bleeding heart, until it is mechanized with valves and fittings too tight for art or for...

Salt of Sun and Sea

Next to your bed I breathe the salt of the earth in your hair the salt of the sun in your eye the salt of the sea of your night In my...

Anatomy of a Funeral

Standard-issue funeral option tombstones are concrete slabs like ashes in a cardboard box, aggregate mixtures of concrete sprawl, a...

Compass Our Awe

Free verse Why do we share our art but for the company of like minds through words that compass our awe, unlock human glimpses, calloused...

The Body Is a Fantastical Story

Narrative free verse on imaginative self-creation The stained patch on my arm is a cipher where the Author left a clue, a grafted map of...

Magpie

You can tell I’m a magpie by the pieces I carry: the magpie, a collector, a good-luck bird, full of words, hiding in patterns round...

Pictures of You

Ghazal after The Cure’s Disintegration by Jessica Lee McMillan Plainsong broadcasts through stained glass, splinters color on my pictures...

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About

Jessica Lee McMillan is a poet and with an MA in English. When not writing, doing front-line legal work or teaching, she spends time with her little family and buries herself in books and records. 

Jessica's poetry examines nature and music as architectures that extend to our perceptions. Her essays look at culture, music and philosophy as tools to navigate existentialist concerns. 

You can find her work in Bewildering Stories, Pocket Lint (A New Journal), Goat's Milk Magazine, RCLAS Wordplay at Work, Rat's Ass ReviewTiny Spoon, Blank Spaces Magazine and Dream Pop Press

She lives in New Westminster, British Columbia.

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