Poetry by Kersten Christianson
Planet Ink
Pack up the pens, paints in acrylic & spray, the indigo ink. Fill the rocket ship with pigments in chakra hues chroma blues & orange, magenta for good measure. We’ll blast off into the black coffee sky, veer straight for the moon, its blank canvas surface open for ink-smeared scribblings, heart-beating words. |
Taku Winds
Do you hear me? That knock of bare alder branch, the murmur of goodnight swans drifting the touch and go of tide. That orange- embered fire, hot gray coals percolate in clam- shell moonlight. Remember this moment. |
Kersten Christianson is a raven-watching, moon-gazing, Alaskan. When not exploring the summer lands and dark winter of the Yukon, she lives in Sitka, Alaska. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing (University of Alaska Anchorage) and recently published her first collection of poetry Something Yet to Be Named (Aldrich Press, 2017).
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