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Caroline Rayner

little lies about your cool life

  *Listen to Caroline read this poem.


all night long i play the sims

like a devil

or a princess

or a cat.

i mean,

the future backflips

all over the sky

so i dream

of transforming

& i become


a narrative device

like a drone,

only peach soft

& powered by a river.

half machine,

half witch.

all my insecurity

collapses into my third eye,


no one dives into the pool,

perhaps too depressed

or too haunted.

this is proof––

negative thought

inside a black hole

escapes & blooms &

clouds up

every pixel

of every mirror selfie.

which is more dangerous––

knowledge or possession?

my macbook

screeches at me

so i practice night vision.

when a girl

puts on ambient music

& bakes a birthday cake,

i get real

& we burn

the house down.





  *Listen to Caroline read this poem.


as autumn ages

in dog years

& curls up


in the living room

like champagne,

i collect


what burns––

a sweater floating

around my hips,


not because i deny it.

i like to think

purely fox,


a single jade

teacup hidden in lace

to make an uneven number,


a quilt, or apology

when lavender & original,

now a figment. sexless hills.


i break the pomegranate


& the marriage


of snap & lunar interior

excites me.

remember how i used to love


a saint? remember how i wanted

to become a hummingbird?

i hear it while drunk


& trying to be sweet.

rarely do i dream

so softly


but i can’t help it.

i licked everything





Want more? Read our WHAT WHAT HOW interview with Caroline!

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