Anti-Heroin Chic
@antiheroinchic.bsky.social
AHC is a literary arts intentional community and healing space. Submissions CLOSED. On hiatus. Edited by
James Diaz, Jenny Robbins & Roy Duffield. https://heroinchic.weebly.com/
James Diaz, Jenny Robbins & Roy Duffield. https://heroinchic.weebly.com/
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
Here’s another piece from the not-too-distant past that was published in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social back in 2021. I truly hope this zine comes back from its indefinite hiatus very soon because it is missed!
August 27, 2025 at 4:04 PM
Here’s another piece from the not-too-distant past that was published in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social back in 2021. I truly hope this zine comes back from its indefinite hiatus very soon because it is missed!
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
you can read a couple of the pieces from the collection here, in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social:
Poetry by Sara Mae
SashaW CC Moon Roof Gothic In temporal drag, I press a blade of grass to my palm & call backwards. This time I do not return but bring that small child out from hiding, our voice...
heroinchic.weebly.com
July 8, 2025 at 2:01 PM
you can read a couple of the pieces from the collection here, in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social:
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
The nightmare of grief - flashback to a father on chemotherapy. Originally published by Anti Heroin Chic @antiheroinchic.bsky.social
July 18, 2025 at 5:52 PM
The nightmare of grief - flashback to a father on chemotherapy. Originally published by Anti Heroin Chic @antiheroinchic.bsky.social
"Tonight I contend that she died, but I lost her
earlier. Like the time she took me to the grocery store so late
at night I rubbed my eyes, pretended we were on a trip,
each day I decide who to be, for or despite, my queen.
Such quests, each memory. Painful as emerging form."
earlier. Like the time she took me to the grocery store so late
at night I rubbed my eyes, pretended we were on a trip,
each day I decide who to be, for or despite, my queen.
Such quests, each memory. Painful as emerging form."
Poetry by Brooke Harries
Nicholas Erwin CC Content It was third grade when my mom was taken from a rose garden where she had wandered hallucinating through a pale stone path. They put her in a straitjacket,...
heroinchic.weebly.com
May 18, 2025 at 1:22 PM
"Tonight I contend that she died, but I lost her
earlier. Like the time she took me to the grocery store so late
at night I rubbed my eyes, pretended we were on a trip,
each day I decide who to be, for or despite, my queen.
Such quests, each memory. Painful as emerging form."
earlier. Like the time she took me to the grocery store so late
at night I rubbed my eyes, pretended we were on a trip,
each day I decide who to be, for or despite, my queen.
Such quests, each memory. Painful as emerging form."
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
Sharing again for #MentalHealthAwarenessMonth, from my poem called "Sometimes I Google You" in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social
"we stormed that brutalist column
you have to see it up here now--
there’s so much open air"
It's here: heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
"we stormed that brutalist column
you have to see it up here now--
there’s so much open air"
It's here: heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
Poetry By Jessica Whipple
Sovraskin CC Sometimes I Google You There are names I know like a stairwell knows an echo poems I can’t write an echo in a stairwell is a poem: footsteps on pavement footsteps...
heroinchic.weebly.com
May 12, 2025 at 11:34 PM
Sharing again for #MentalHealthAwarenessMonth, from my poem called "Sometimes I Google You" in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social
"we stormed that brutalist column
you have to see it up here now--
there’s so much open air"
It's here: heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
"we stormed that brutalist column
you have to see it up here now--
there’s so much open air"
It's here: heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
"Is this not the way of everything?
See how these trees allow the wind to strip away
their leaves. They raise bare arms in praise of letting go.
Will you join them? Will you answer
when your heart is shaken wakeful by
the tremor of a shift?
...You, too, can modulate
your life into another key."
See how these trees allow the wind to strip away
their leaves. They raise bare arms in praise of letting go.
Will you join them? Will you answer
when your heart is shaken wakeful by
the tremor of a shift?
...You, too, can modulate
your life into another key."
Poetry by Alison Hurwitz
Rich Carstensen CC Lichen Marriage Decades on, we texture surface in a spray of tiny trumpets. My algae threads your fungus in a symbiotic chord. Our story’s spored on pelts of moss,...
heroinchic.weebly.com
May 9, 2025 at 3:25 PM
"Is this not the way of everything?
See how these trees allow the wind to strip away
their leaves. They raise bare arms in praise of letting go.
Will you join them? Will you answer
when your heart is shaken wakeful by
the tremor of a shift?
...You, too, can modulate
your life into another key."
See how these trees allow the wind to strip away
their leaves. They raise bare arms in praise of letting go.
Will you join them? Will you answer
when your heart is shaken wakeful by
the tremor of a shift?
...You, too, can modulate
your life into another key."
"some babies are born with the blues,
souls tuned to the minor or diminished
fedoras permanently askew.
some babies are born to the blues,
pale eyes like searchlights or dark
eyes like pools read sagas in cloud
striations or the patterns
leaves make against sky.
some babies are born for the blues"
souls tuned to the minor or diminished
fedoras permanently askew.
some babies are born to the blues,
pale eyes like searchlights or dark
eyes like pools read sagas in cloud
striations or the patterns
leaves make against sky.
some babies are born for the blues"
Poetry by Marjorie Tesser
Nicholas Erwin CC MOOD INDIGO some babies are born with the blues, souls tuned to the minor or diminished fedoras permanently askew. some babies are born to the blues, pale eyes...
heroinchic.weebly.com
May 1, 2025 at 1:10 PM
"some babies are born with the blues,
souls tuned to the minor or diminished
fedoras permanently askew.
some babies are born to the blues,
pale eyes like searchlights or dark
eyes like pools read sagas in cloud
striations or the patterns
leaves make against sky.
some babies are born for the blues"
souls tuned to the minor or diminished
fedoras permanently askew.
some babies are born to the blues,
pale eyes like searchlights or dark
eyes like pools read sagas in cloud
striations or the patterns
leaves make against sky.
some babies are born for the blues"
"Sobriety is waking up every morning
Looking at the burn scars on my arm
Like a constellation.
Tracing the stars
and piecing together the plot."
Looking at the burn scars on my arm
Like a constellation.
Tracing the stars
and piecing together the plot."
Poetry by Gregory Smith
Neal Wellons CC BANDO!!! I’m listening to Bando Stone And The New World and reading a Donald Glover interview and he says really, I feel sorry for y’all, you really didn’t even get...
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 29, 2025 at 1:40 PM
"Sobriety is waking up every morning
Looking at the burn scars on my arm
Like a constellation.
Tracing the stars
and piecing together the plot."
Looking at the burn scars on my arm
Like a constellation.
Tracing the stars
and piecing together the plot."
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
NEW POEM #228: "So Bound is Creation by the Cry of Trumpets" by Matthew E. Henry (@mehpoeting.bsky.social)
"creation groans for the time
when it’s not fit outside
for man. when the cities
have been cast down
and all is unblemished"
stonecirclereview.com/so-bound-is-...
#Poem #PoetryCommunity
"creation groans for the time
when it’s not fit outside
for man. when the cities
have been cast down
and all is unblemished"
stonecirclereview.com/so-bound-is-...
#Poem #PoetryCommunity
April 27, 2025 at 2:05 PM
NEW POEM #228: "So Bound is Creation by the Cry of Trumpets" by Matthew E. Henry (@mehpoeting.bsky.social)
"creation groans for the time
when it’s not fit outside
for man. when the cities
have been cast down
and all is unblemished"
stonecirclereview.com/so-bound-is-...
#Poem #PoetryCommunity
"creation groans for the time
when it’s not fit outside
for man. when the cities
have been cast down
and all is unblemished"
stonecirclereview.com/so-bound-is-...
#Poem #PoetryCommunity
"to be a writer
is to garnish an ache
of the blossom
and how it breaks
to rise and open
to a temporary light
to be a writer
is to dissect
that very ache
and build a muscle
over the cold, hard bone"
is to garnish an ache
of the blossom
and how it breaks
to rise and open
to a temporary light
to be a writer
is to dissect
that very ache
and build a muscle
over the cold, hard bone"
Poetry by Kika Dorsey
Stephen A. Wolfe CC Poetry tilled land at my feet sowing seed writing with eyelashes dipped in moonlight their curve my closed mouth I’ve closed my eyes for you I’ve gathered...
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 28, 2025 at 12:52 PM
"to be a writer
is to garnish an ache
of the blossom
and how it breaks
to rise and open
to a temporary light
to be a writer
is to dissect
that very ache
and build a muscle
over the cold, hard bone"
is to garnish an ache
of the blossom
and how it breaks
to rise and open
to a temporary light
to be a writer
is to dissect
that very ache
and build a muscle
over the cold, hard bone"
"You’ve made a habit
of asking before entering
your own room, forgotten
how to don a red apron and swing
out of the weather house. Look
how the spiderlings cast themselves
on threads the colour of wind
into the unknown. I’ve heard the sun
can grow an oak, the robin
testing every note it knows."
of asking before entering
your own room, forgotten
how to don a red apron and swing
out of the weather house. Look
how the spiderlings cast themselves
on threads the colour of wind
into the unknown. I’ve heard the sun
can grow an oak, the robin
testing every note it knows."
Poetry by Naomi Madlock
Vincent Parsons CC GUTTER DAYS She used to dance on broken glass, used to peck, every morning, her own feet from the glue trap. Sometimes the only way out is through a wound. And...
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 10, 2025 at 1:35 PM
"You’ve made a habit
of asking before entering
your own room, forgotten
how to don a red apron and swing
out of the weather house. Look
how the spiderlings cast themselves
on threads the colour of wind
into the unknown. I’ve heard the sun
can grow an oak, the robin
testing every note it knows."
of asking before entering
your own room, forgotten
how to don a red apron and swing
out of the weather house. Look
how the spiderlings cast themselves
on threads the colour of wind
into the unknown. I’ve heard the sun
can grow an oak, the robin
testing every note it knows."
"I watch my father lay in bed
fetal and pale.
Like a newborn baby,
like a chick in egg shell.
He lays in his nest
made of sticks, springs, and sawdust —
made of malt, sweat, and ash.
I wonder what his dreams are made of...
and I witness how fast we wane."
fetal and pale.
Like a newborn baby,
like a chick in egg shell.
He lays in his nest
made of sticks, springs, and sawdust —
made of malt, sweat, and ash.
I wonder what his dreams are made of...
and I witness how fast we wane."
Poetry by Faith Brown
Nicholas Erwin CC When He Lays I watch my father lay in bed fetal and pale. Like a newborn baby, like a chick in egg shell. He lays in his nest made of sticks, springs, and sawdust...
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 8, 2025 at 3:16 PM
"I watch my father lay in bed
fetal and pale.
Like a newborn baby,
like a chick in egg shell.
He lays in his nest
made of sticks, springs, and sawdust —
made of malt, sweat, and ash.
I wonder what his dreams are made of...
and I witness how fast we wane."
fetal and pale.
Like a newborn baby,
like a chick in egg shell.
He lays in his nest
made of sticks, springs, and sawdust —
made of malt, sweat, and ash.
I wonder what his dreams are made of...
and I witness how fast we wane."
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
happy birthday to this piece in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social :")
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
Poetry by Romy Rhoads Ewing
Heath Cajandig CC full fat Ten in the morning, Barely, weeping over the Ways to feign something. I read from an incredibly unreputable Source that there are Ways to make your cat Feel...
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 6, 2025 at 1:17 AM
happy birthday to this piece in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social :")
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
It’s Your Choice
to unfasten your lungs,
to breathe gentler air beneath
despair, to fill every branching alveoli
like the whispering trees—to feel
crisp winter and glacier your wounds,
to lose time’s cusp and find
a ten-point buck in moon glow
to unfasten your lungs,
to breathe gentler air beneath
despair, to fill every branching alveoli
like the whispering trees—to feel
crisp winter and glacier your wounds,
to lose time’s cusp and find
a ten-point buck in moon glow
Poetry by Pam Sinicrope
Dan Finnen CC Nocturne with a Peregrine Falcon Another night bracketed with pain. Should I abandon sleep’s helium balloon, untie from the dream where I unhinge the hingeless door....
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 5, 2025 at 1:13 PM
It’s Your Choice
to unfasten your lungs,
to breathe gentler air beneath
despair, to fill every branching alveoli
like the whispering trees—to feel
crisp winter and glacier your wounds,
to lose time’s cusp and find
a ten-point buck in moon glow
to unfasten your lungs,
to breathe gentler air beneath
despair, to fill every branching alveoli
like the whispering trees—to feel
crisp winter and glacier your wounds,
to lose time’s cusp and find
a ten-point buck in moon glow
"Every kid is born wanting to play Freeze Tag and Marco Polo, to look in the mirror and say, I like you, I really like you. Squint at your reflection as the glass panel beeps, You’re it."
Poetry by Susan Kolon
George Bremer CC What to do while your mug of tea reheats Watch the mug you stole from Waffle House spin to nowhere on the turntable. Picture the red leather bracelet with the...
heroinchic.weebly.com
April 3, 2025 at 2:08 PM
"Every kid is born wanting to play Freeze Tag and Marco Polo, to look in the mirror and say, I like you, I really like you. Squint at your reflection as the glass panel beeps, You’re it."
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
It’s beautiful in DC right now. Peak bloom from the cherry blossoms and petals drift by wherever you walk, blown in from some distant or nearby tree.
When I first transitioned, they were blooming, years ago.
On this Transgender Day of Visibility, I am yearning for our own spring to return.
When I first transitioned, they were blooming, years ago.
On this Transgender Day of Visibility, I am yearning for our own spring to return.
March 31, 2025 at 12:19 PM
It’s beautiful in DC right now. Peak bloom from the cherry blossoms and petals drift by wherever you walk, blown in from some distant or nearby tree.
When I first transitioned, they were blooming, years ago.
On this Transgender Day of Visibility, I am yearning for our own spring to return.
When I first transitioned, they were blooming, years ago.
On this Transgender Day of Visibility, I am yearning for our own spring to return.
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
What are you doing Wednesday night? Come hang out with me and these 2 awesome guys!
I know you are all bubbling with AWP excitement, but what will you do when it's over? How to soothe the emptiness? COME TO A POETRY READING! I'll be reading with the amazing rob mclennan and Paul Corman-Roberts on Weds April 2 at 5pm Pacific. Join us! Register at tinyurl.com/2ph4wab6
March 31, 2025 at 2:56 PM
What are you doing Wednesday night? Come hang out with me and these 2 awesome guys!
"Every heart that is and remains
Must be split open
Cracked like the crust of your being
When you know what it is to be born"
Must be split open
Cracked like the crust of your being
When you know what it is to be born"
Poetry by Patsy Creedy
Rich Carstensen CC They Were Talking About Transformation When they complained about the fire Wanting to know who did it was the tragic flaw in the argument Tapestries, lines of...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 31, 2025 at 3:04 PM
"Every heart that is and remains
Must be split open
Cracked like the crust of your being
When you know what it is to be born"
Must be split open
Cracked like the crust of your being
When you know what it is to be born"
"You are a pageant of opulent flaws
Not drum-tight and lush limbed and dewy
But scandalously at home in your skin.
You have the wisdom to marvel at your totality
To rhapsodize the endless wonder of you
To find your way back to that pink-tulled five-year-old
and grow young again."
Not drum-tight and lush limbed and dewy
But scandalously at home in your skin.
You have the wisdom to marvel at your totality
To rhapsodize the endless wonder of you
To find your way back to that pink-tulled five-year-old
and grow young again."
Poetry by Liz Alani
Justin Meissen CC REQUIEM FOR FUN “I never got to have enough fun” Sighed my quirky jewel of a mother With such profound loss That fun became a stone in her mouth In her German...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 29, 2025 at 3:11 PM
"You are a pageant of opulent flaws
Not drum-tight and lush limbed and dewy
But scandalously at home in your skin.
You have the wisdom to marvel at your totality
To rhapsodize the endless wonder of you
To find your way back to that pink-tulled five-year-old
and grow young again."
Not drum-tight and lush limbed and dewy
But scandalously at home in your skin.
You have the wisdom to marvel at your totality
To rhapsodize the endless wonder of you
To find your way back to that pink-tulled five-year-old
and grow young again."
"I still go there sometimes
not at night not alone
but it’s where my friends hang out and just now I saw the advertising for the zenn-y little poetry group he leads there they call it a journey of sacred community and it’s hard when you finally understand what you are and what you’re not"
not at night not alone
but it’s where my friends hang out and just now I saw the advertising for the zenn-y little poetry group he leads there they call it a journey of sacred community and it’s hard when you finally understand what you are and what you’re not"
Poetry by Jennifer Maloney
Tim Vrtiska CC Sacred In the bookstore parking lot two weeks after I tell him no I just want to be friends he follows me to my car screaming words that when I repeat them try to...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 24, 2025 at 3:18 PM
"I still go there sometimes
not at night not alone
but it’s where my friends hang out and just now I saw the advertising for the zenn-y little poetry group he leads there they call it a journey of sacred community and it’s hard when you finally understand what you are and what you’re not"
not at night not alone
but it’s where my friends hang out and just now I saw the advertising for the zenn-y little poetry group he leads there they call it a journey of sacred community and it’s hard when you finally understand what you are and what you’re not"
"listen, little child. Terrified fawn. I got us out.
I know your greatest fear is to be left behind,
forgotten forever. But now I’ve eaten you up
like you’re medicine, my sweet little venison.
You live in my belly, my chewed up savior,
once swallowed down to hold their favor"
I know your greatest fear is to be left behind,
forgotten forever. But now I’ve eaten you up
like you’re medicine, my sweet little venison.
You live in my belly, my chewed up savior,
once swallowed down to hold their favor"
Poetry by Heidi Spitzig
Tim Vrtiska CC Ausa Vatni She wants to change her last name when her daughter turns 18, Having already gone through her Phoenix stage she’s moved on to water, to where the ash of her...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 23, 2025 at 2:58 PM
"listen, little child. Terrified fawn. I got us out.
I know your greatest fear is to be left behind,
forgotten forever. But now I’ve eaten you up
like you’re medicine, my sweet little venison.
You live in my belly, my chewed up savior,
once swallowed down to hold their favor"
I know your greatest fear is to be left behind,
forgotten forever. But now I’ve eaten you up
like you’re medicine, my sweet little venison.
You live in my belly, my chewed up savior,
once swallowed down to hold their favor"
"Up I grew
became
close personal friend
to grape and grain.
No singing now.
Sparks flew.
Nights got later.
Forty years
of days shed like ash
of putting my fire
out."
became
close personal friend
to grape and grain.
No singing now.
Sparks flew.
Nights got later.
Forty years
of days shed like ash
of putting my fire
out."
Poetry by Julie Novak-McSweeney
George Bremer CC Angel Life 1. My early taste for cigarettes and vertigo crouched me in mom’s bathroom every dirty morning locked in against questions exhaust fan on loud...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 21, 2025 at 1:16 PM
"Up I grew
became
close personal friend
to grape and grain.
No singing now.
Sparks flew.
Nights got later.
Forty years
of days shed like ash
of putting my fire
out."
became
close personal friend
to grape and grain.
No singing now.
Sparks flew.
Nights got later.
Forty years
of days shed like ash
of putting my fire
out."
"I look for loners,
those of us who often stood aside
observing, criticizing, hoping
to be noticed. Today I’m surprised
by our numbers. Perhaps being an outsider
is healthy. And today, with strength
in our numbers, we have become a faction."
those of us who often stood aside
observing, criticizing, hoping
to be noticed. Today I’m surprised
by our numbers. Perhaps being an outsider
is healthy. And today, with strength
in our numbers, we have become a faction."
Poetry by jim bourey
Paul VanDerWerf CC An Observation on How the Passing of Sixty Years Has Changed the Social Dynamics of the Class of 1964 I’d like to tell you that as we walked down the path to...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 19, 2025 at 11:46 AM
"I look for loners,
those of us who often stood aside
observing, criticizing, hoping
to be noticed. Today I’m surprised
by our numbers. Perhaps being an outsider
is healthy. And today, with strength
in our numbers, we have become a faction."
those of us who often stood aside
observing, criticizing, hoping
to be noticed. Today I’m surprised
by our numbers. Perhaps being an outsider
is healthy. And today, with strength
in our numbers, we have become a faction."
"My mother has this thing
where she brags about family members to
other family members, but rarely actually tells
the actual object of her admiration how proud
or amazing or intelligent she is... if you have the power
to give someone rocket fuel, why wouldn’t
you want to count them down to launch?"
where she brags about family members to
other family members, but rarely actually tells
the actual object of her admiration how proud
or amazing or intelligent she is... if you have the power
to give someone rocket fuel, why wouldn’t
you want to count them down to launch?"
Poetry by Bob King
Nicholas Erwin CC What It Takes to Solve a Crossword Puzzle I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t let myself do crosswords because my day disappears when I can’t come up with the...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 16, 2025 at 5:03 PM
"My mother has this thing
where she brags about family members to
other family members, but rarely actually tells
the actual object of her admiration how proud
or amazing or intelligent she is... if you have the power
to give someone rocket fuel, why wouldn’t
you want to count them down to launch?"
where she brags about family members to
other family members, but rarely actually tells
the actual object of her admiration how proud
or amazing or intelligent she is... if you have the power
to give someone rocket fuel, why wouldn’t
you want to count them down to launch?"
Reposted by Anti-Heroin Chic
Two poems of mine, featured in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social a while back:
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
Poetry by Siân Killingsworth
Øyvind Holmstad CC Ouroboros Fever A shaking venom moves in my hours. Time feels too long. I granulate my emotions, spend each grain, miserly. Else be mired...
heroinchic.weebly.com
March 10, 2025 at 5:30 PM
Two poems of mine, featured in @antiheroinchic.bsky.social a while back:
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...
heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/poetry-...