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It is upsetting that you saw me
In the eyes of a gnat,
Draining me into a
Translucent hue.

I felt like the moon,
Invisibly bright,
Incredibly moved,
Withstanding the night.

But with a limp, I trudge
With less limb, I flair
You were more than a bug,
But a bite
And you rested there.

On a dimple I treasured,
Now barren skin,
With cauliflower veins
That quietly wear thin.

You told me to carve out a smile
In the crooks of my knees.
And leave on the bridge
Your stolen set of keys

You were my donor
You fed me legacy
But tread with care, sweet parasite
Make not your host

An enemy.



The first time I flew, I saw the mountains
Cuddled by the sea
My mother said we’d see nothing
Well, nothing was breathtaking
There was divinity in the height
There was weakness in the summits
And I watched the craters form
I could have sworn I saw
Each drop of melted ice
Trickle down earth and rock
I could have sworn I saw
The acorn land on that bluff
And join the earth and rock
That trickled so
I could have sworn I heard
The waves clash against the base
As I watched the tides come in
A million miles from shore.
I lean back and touch
The window who exhales the sun
On my bare hand
And I feel new

Even the glass feels stronger
Less brittle



I saw the years in the metal
The iron pulsed decades
And her skin flaked
And it went raw
The mortar bled
And then went soft
Worried as the frail invades

– Kaylin Baker-Fields




Would you believe me
If I were a nightmare
In your gothic dream?

Who ripped the colour
From your eyes.
Who tore the silence
From your lips.

Like fabric.
Like silk.

Granting you a fear,
Most pleasurable.
As you ogle the sepia tinged
Concrete palette you live on.

Would you believe a lie
That made you happy?
Would you believe
You already have?

A lie as smooth
As my grip.
Let me be the force of you,
Let me use you up.

Let your desert skin
Succumb to my drought.

For I am thirsty,
And you would not believe
My tolerance.

Linne Foirthe


Linne Foirthe

If the rocks were to sing in two part harmony,
The wind would be strong enough to carry them both.
And while the mountain sounds
Were to be painted
In golden sunsets, it was the dew
That stained the stone.
The emerald city of moss amalgamating
Between the backbone,

Left a crippling voice that never leaves
The tip of my tongue.

You see, the wind was searching
For ecstasy while drowning in low pressure tides,
And found it in the hiccupped dreams
Of the lonely beach’s shorelines.
For each small grain of wilting sand
That tumbles to bay and arm,
Hasty, they hum in unison with
As many breaths as stars,

Succumbing to the melody
That makes them what they are.

Let Beauty Perish

“If this is the price of beauty, let beauty perish with everything else. Take her and defile her.” (Euripides)

Let Beauty perish
Let her trickle down the drain
Suddenly expired
In the way of all flesh
Split open by flattery
Blistered under pressure

Let Beauty fall
For she is dead
And found in a pile
Behind the landfill
That you so frantically dug through
Searching for her

Let Beauty perish
Let her abdicate her throne
Let it be the headline
Let it be the spectacle
The one
She always yearned to be

Let dying Beauty keep
Let her breathe like a museum
So that I may forget her
Behind glass
Periodically admired
Periodically dismissed

– Kaylin Baker-Fields

These were originally written as lyrics, but make for a very poetic prose as well. It might be a tad difficult to read this in rhythm, but imagine you are singing them. Enjoy!



You didn’t know a thing about Cézanne
You’re not even sure how to spell the name
And if I asked you for your two cents
You’d admit to having no change
And you’re that jock in the shower room
Who lacked all proof of playing fair game

And if in the end you’re right
And I’m swimming in the current
And if in the end you’re wrong
Well I’m lucky I’m still buoyant
Cause not all bones like sinking stones
Rest upon the surface

And my thoughts became distorted
When you plugged them into questions
You said the mini strokes and antidotes
Dictated your life lessons
Cause the chalkboard of your self-content
Dusted my projections

You said the atoms in you brokenness
Made soft skin turn to scar
And that earth’s nasty entrails
Turned your indifference rock hard
And that our very own existence
Depends on the dust between the stars

And our bittersweet bickering
Then started getting sour
And I’m the damsel in distress
Who would rather stay in her tower
Now the chances of my saviours’ sight
Dwindles by the hour

But we were tombed
Wholly consumed
And the morticians not quite welcome in the room
So you were told
When you enrolled
In the cataclysm of a mother’s scold

So you left me on the bus stop curb
Gnawing at my damp soul

-Kaylin Baker-Fields


Ultimate Being

To discover the revolutionary in the mundane,
Is to frame the dismal in sparkling tides at sunset.
Is to catch the euphony in the clamour,
To see the glitter in the flood,
And the silk in the wool.

To witness progress in the lethargy
Of cliffs as they weather to sand,
Is to recognize the shape in snowflakes,
The braille in fingerprints,
And the ecosystems in puddles.

To attempt to find the beauty in the simple,
Is finding the figure in the warped.
To chew each crystal of sugar in the juice,
To read each story through the wrinkles,
Is to taste the perfection of nature.

We are simple.
And the food we eat is divine.
And the air we breathe is bliss.
And to see the curves,
Be them microscopic,
In the strings of our particles,
Does not make us tedious.
It makes us fluid,
It makes us ultimate.

-Kaylin Baker-Fields




My tea is hot and bitter
I always liked it better
that way the essentials
spill into the bubbles
like street oil in raindrops.

Oh, what a sweetness be black tea!
Perhaps, I’ve made a faulty tea.
i understand the bitter tastes
without knowing how bitter tastes.

-Kaylin Baker-Fields

Inspired by one of the most lively, charismatic cities I’ve ever been to, Dublin.

Baile Átha Cliath

This city smells of cigarettes and liquor
The malts are sharp and the drams are bitter
The winds are swift but the cabs are quicker
The water runs black, but my blood is thicker.

And this city is seen in dusk and night
When the shops are closed and the cars sway right
When the glass half full with scotch delight
Eats at your heart with a tenderly bite.

And the stories are told in myth and legend
Where the Witches burn and the changelings leaven
Where the vials are cursed, but to drink, is heaven
Where to catch your tongue, is to use your weapon.

And to fish through the seas of stony, lit eyes
With their ebony fringes caught deep in the tides
With the Galway girls robust in their strides
With their graffiti tinge washed well to their sides.

And upon this bridge the waves may look whiter
The Lads blaze the streets with their cigarette lighters
And the tramp, in a haze, will pull an all-nighter
Think fast, drunk champs, for your sky’s getting brighter.

– Kaylin Baker-Fields