100 Poems

Home
Archive
About
Breakdown
I was grumping along I-40, resenting the languor of semis, when my engine died in Palestine.
 • 
Lisa Jensen
17
Fog moves like breath across the water
like birds are panting from their morning calisthenics, like fish are having all kinds of fun, like the air is standing too close to the mirror…
 • 
Lisa Jensen
16
Navigational Advice for My Younger Self
It is true that there are tolls at every offramp. You could make this a reason to cruise control ahead, but your fuel can’t hold forever, your car won’t…
 • 
Lisa Jensen
41
I never wrote a poem for New York.
I never wrote a poem for New York.
 • 
Lisa Jensen
70

September 2024

Helene
Somewhere over the Atlantic, the sky picked up the ocean, held it high, and together they spun.
 • 
Lisa Jensen
38
Inventory of Attention
Before I had even pushed back the blankets or shaken the lead out of my limbs, I knew about Lebanon, bulldozers in the West Bank, Zelensky’s call for…
 • 
Lisa Jensen
53
Incantation
Goldenrod, wingstem, mistflower, boneset— I toss consonants to a cauldron of air.
 • 
Lisa Jensen
41
Color Wheel
Golden brown bounds in golden green, tail flicking light, beans nodding ever nearer autumn.
 • 
Lisa Jensen
70
In-breath
In between the Zoom call and the phone call, in between emptying the dishwasher and filling it up, in between dripping fingers and puddled floor, in…
 • 
Lisa Jensen
42
Gratitude
I sway in a basket, soar over green quilt ground.
 • 
Lisa Jensen
50
Commonplace
This morning, I watched a dove waddle a tightrope. The line swayed as she jerked her neck, picked at nits. It’s unkind to say, but she seemed…
 • 
Lisa Jensen
39
Composing
If you curve your fingers to the keys, their white plains and black ridges, if you feel their smoothness like a song, gather their dust into your static…
 • 
Lisa Jensen
47
© 2024 Lisa Jensen
Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start WritingGet the app
Substack is the home for great culture