Wood desk at a window. On the desk, a blue coffee mug, roses in a vase, partially visible laptop, and Talk Smack to a Hurricane, poetry collection by Lynne Jensen Lampe.

Poems

2026

Proverbial, The Kenyon Review

Time Only Looks Human, Okay Donkey

2025

heart as double-paned window, Stone Circle Review [nominated for Pushcart]

2024

Not All Words Taste Like Prayer, Journal of Compressed Creative Arts

Leaving Louisiana, The Inflectionist Review

10 poems, Rough-Cut Elegies: An Anthology of Missouri Poets, Spartan Press

3 poems, Gasconade Review

Sunday Afternoons Always End, Lips Poetry Magazine (Laura Boss Poetry Foundation)

(don’t) take me home + Bob Dylan Warned Them, To Light the Trails: Poems by Women in a Violent World, Sídhe Press

2023

Nine Letters, Nine Months, Never Happened, Rise Up Review

Child as Noble Metal, Stone Circle Review

2022

The Scenic Route, Many Nice Donkeys [nominated for Best of the Net]

Three Horses, Muzzles Pointing South, THRUSH

Whale Foam, Sea Honey + red-pickup men pass me & my bike on montlake, Moist Poetry Journal

Pondering Three of Marilyn’s Sketches in Red, Figure 1

Surface Tension, Olney Magazine

3 poems, Well Versed 2022, Columbia Chapter of the Missouri Writers Guild

Order a Coke in Baton Rouge, Work and the Anthropocene anthology, Ice Floe Press

2021

The Half-Life of Sanity, Hyades

Never Stay Where Grief Is Free, Anti-Heroin Chic

To the Old Lady Eating Fries, One/Jacar Press

What Voting Leaves, The American Journal of Poetry

Jitter and Shimmer, Second Chance Lit–The Phoenix Project

Diagnosing the Perfect Avocado, Yemassee

2 poems, Columbia Art League Interpretations VI & book

2 poems, SMEOP: Urban, Black Sunflowers Poetry Press anthology

2020

Stirring the Ashes, Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize finalist

4 poems, San Pedro River Review

2 poems, Rock & Sling

26 Letters Refuse to Whisper, LIT Magazine–Corona Chronicle

The Last Hunger, Small Orange [nominated for Best of the Net]

2019

Jitter and Shimmer, Isthmus Review

2017

2 poems, South Florida Poetry Journal

Chiaroscuro

The moon drums its fingers
across Carnelian Lake, shrugs,
waits for the loon cry.
Seckel pears fester on the ground,
soft & meaningless. Blisters
weep for winter, feed
what could become spring.

Could. Conditional tense,
what we wish for. Hope for.
The gaze is everything.
Silence scabs thought
& all dead belong to the King.
God. Religion’s needle,
dull blue bruise. Hurt
means feeling & feeling
means alive. We knuckle
our fear. We hope

our feet to the floor
every morning. A new
song drops & we dance
in the kitchen, throw open
our curtains to the sky.

from my debut collection Talk Smack
to a Hurricane