taylor miller

Author: Taylor Miller

euphemisms fall short

a week of rain to wash away a year — some moreexhausting, incapacitating, enveloping drought — an overused moment by…

and we shall stand in the sun with a will,

an editor mentioned my overuse of ellipses meant my work was incompleteloathing weekends, as more rejections letters won’t arriveweekdays, an…

same drought

new yearsame droughtwildfires, barely furthera closed loop of climate chaosof cooling stations circulating on social mediaare we sure our unhoused…

the flood

forgotten moistureforgotten freedom. a sort of free of the fleshcried on the banks of the Seine, not to be dramaticwept…


five years and someto the next month, faint dreams of vivid bloomscerus, queens, anyone or thing at this pointanywhere. still…

one year, nearly

don’t share another – new normaldon’t gripe another – women fired, burned out, give me self-care, self-loathing, self-annihilation already, enough….

usually epiphytic

the flower from heaven flower of triumph beauty under the moon, they say. because they is another world before the…

the buds of summer’s end

endless allegory

withering rosettes

a parched palette and,persistent thirst and,every cell feels insatiable— your health, you have your health.googled Agadez, Nigersomewherethe sands and throes…

heard <<>> seen

the harvest must happen before the rainsotherwise the pods will moldthe stiffness in my lower back, elbowscontinuously nourishing another, the…

versatile as squash

we put our faith in a few packetswho knows how they were saved, whose hands touched eachit was welcome distraction…

spring, summer suddenly

  it’s not a kind of preparedness any of us prepared for — hindsight in slow waves but a tumultuous…

gloom, new moon

printemps, agité

“In fact, it comes to this: nobody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. For…

printemps, à la maison

despite the flurry late capitalist chaos, and quarantine here, self-imposed a nearly ten month old. near springtime again a backyard…

belle de mai

belle de mai, encore

calanque de sormiou

ma friche préférée

regal, downpour

science and museums say, once a summer, if that but despite gripping, hurtful fatigue all is bountiful and much a-bloom

après la floraison

she arrived, it is spring a bouquet each day and night now, nearly summer and still we dream of monsoons

a spring, before the bloom

in anticipation of Nora’s arrival hours spent pacing, laying tears, and dream of monsoons and of course the flower moon

armed with weapons of criticism


its competition is murderous

centuries had remained


the building fever

an unprecedented scale

an arduous bloom

straight onto the sand

excuse the houses

lemon groves to the south

where the purchasers settled

between two rights


HaGdud Haivri

Eilat Street


stop, nonstop


less bitter an abyss

condemned forever

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