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sadeebee.bsky.social
Sadee Bee
@sadeebee.bsky.social
350 followers 270 following 120 posts
They/Them. Writer. Artist. Book Lover, Queer, Emotional Mess, and Chai addict. Managing Editor Sage Cigarettes Magazine. Magic Lives in Girls, Kith Books.

www.sadeebee.com
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Reposted by Sadee Bee
fifthwheelpress.bsky.social
hi humans of bluesky. we are worried we were perhaps unclear: @sadeebee.bsky.social's call is seeking ERASURE POETRY. we've loved reading other interpretations of this call, but they're not quite what we're after this time around!
October 8, 2025 at 2:54 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
fantasymagazine.bsky.social
reading that poem again 💖

All of Our Mothers are Dead by @eleanorball.bsky.social

find it here ⬇️

psychopomp.com/fantasy/issu...
Fantasy Magazine - issue 98 | Psychopomp
Fantasy Magazine Issue 98 features work by: Eleanor Ball, Christian Emecheta, Sunwoo Jeong, Mateo Perez Lara, Tracie McBride, Eleanna Castroianni
psychopomp.com
September 30, 2025 at 12:32 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
underbellypress.bsky.social
This week’s Sunday Snippet serves up Delicacy by @sadeebee.bsky.social

A sharp, visceral piece, it questions what happens when desire turns spoiled & what remains when someone refuses to be devoured.

Find it in Issue 4.

Friendly reminder submissions for Issue 5 are open until Sept 26!
Sunday Snippets You could not erase me–could not take all–the parts–pieces–filling, and reduce them–to nothing. I would not–let you–consume me–inch by inch–until your fill was had. So–instead–you viewed me–spoiled–rancid. Devoid of–the flavor–you needed. Easier–to see me–all I am–as poison–than the–delicacy–you once–craved. Delicacy Sadee Bee Text is on a black background. In the bottom right corner, there is an image of a mouth, parted, showing the top and bottom row of teeth.
August 17, 2025 at 12:38 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
genrepunkmag.bsky.social
"demure? more like demonic [+ TikTok video notes]" by tommy wyatt blake (@tommywyattblake.bsky.social)

genrepunkmag.wordpress.com/2025/08/13/d...
demure? more like demonic [+ TikTok video notes] – tommy wyatt blake
demure more like demonicDownload tommy wyatt blake (he/they) is the jester of popular culture and poet laureate of timefuckery. he’s the author of  DITCHLAPSE / [REALLY AFRAID]; NOW THAT&#821…
genrepunkmag.wordpress.com
August 13, 2025 at 1:28 PM
sadeebee.bsky.social
New work out in @maudlin_house !

maudlinhouse.net/reflections/

Reflections by Sadee Bee

art by renato_

#fiction #surrealhorror #flashfiction #indielit
August 11, 2025 at 12:40 AM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
maudlinhouse.bsky.social
Reflections by Sadee Bee

maudlinhouse.net/reflections/
Reflections
Their dining room felt a thousand yards long. His ice-blue eyes bored into her like needles pricking her delicate skin. Words filled the air, his lips even moved, yet she heard none of them. All she c...
maudlinhouse.net
August 8, 2025 at 3:33 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
fifthwheelpress.bsky.social
5 days until blog subs close! we'll be reopening at the end of sept for @sadeebee.bsky.social's "Erasing You" call and then again in november for @cavar.bsky.social's "Alterhuman/Multispecies" call, but this is your last chance to send unthemed work for a while!

duotrope.com/duosuma/subm...
fifth wheel press blog Submission Manager
Submit to fifth wheel press blog. Powered by Duosuma: Duotrope's Submission Manager.
duotrope.com
August 10, 2025 at 2:30 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
sundresspub.bsky.social
The 2025 Best of the Net Anthology is now live! Read work from this year's winners and see the full list of finalists here! bestofthenetanthology.com
August 6, 2025 at 1:34 PM
sadeebee.bsky.social
I have been told over and over again, in so many ways, and in so many actions—that I am simply hard to love.

At what point do I stop believing it?
July 26, 2025 at 2:17 AM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
kithbooks.bsky.social
nat raum pushes back against the sanitized polite, pliable, & otherwise "perfect" trans ideal deemed acceptable by society—if, and when, they are accepted at all—with poems that highlight the righteous, the cruel, and the ugly of existing in a cis het patriarchal world
@gr8earlofhell.bsky.social
cover: A pink and black molotov cocktail on a background of blue. the title and authors name appear in a sharp peaked gothic font in white and black respectively. text: and at what point do i hold the power to grab the system by its clavicle and rupture back? poem after and undisclosed meme about my pronouns august 19th pre-orders are OPEN kithbooks.com the following poem appears in a white rectangle on a pink background. ia black handled chef's knife is stabbed through the bottom edge, handle up and point down. text: poem for the cishet woman who says including transmasc people in “women’s” issues isn’t relatable to her personally this is a focus group. focus on identifying five things i can see, four i can touch. focus on the cursor as it slides over the camera button, switches it off. focus on the way she says i hope you don’t take this as offensive, but after i say the menopause website we’re all looking at doesn’t feel trans-friendly. recalibrate; losing focus. don’t focus on the way i feel, the way she doesn’t realize she swatted me down like an attack helicopter would fall if struck by such a blow. don’t focus on all twenty people who said nothing and kept talking about the hot pink web design. focus on the talking-to my boss says is coming for her. focus on the email from my other queer coworker sending love from her gay little corner of the world. focus on quitting this job in a few months, anyway. this is a focus group—focus on collecting my gift card compensation. focus on a future without cis nonsense. the following poem appears in a white rectangle on a blue background. breaking up through the bottom edge of the image is the top half of a pink and black molotov cocktail poem from my deathbed i wish i had kicked. i wish i had screamed. i wish i had yelled the words fuck off far more, for so many more people deserved them. i wish i had carved they into my right breast, them into my left, and worn my deepest v-neck. i wish i had found a vessel for all this wrath before i came to lie here, listing it all off like this is confession and anyone who will listen is an eager- eared soothsayer on the other side of a partition. i wish being trans didn’t come with a side of people so uncomfortable with themselves, they have to project it onto others. i wish i didn’t have to shut up about it to maintain any modicum of respect the average cis person has for me. i wish i didn’t have to say i use any pronouns to dull the sting of a misplaced she. i wish anyone in office gave a damn, but they don’t. i wish the words enshrined protections extended to me, to us. i wish the fact weren’t, but it is. a black handled, white bladed chef's knife, lies blade up on a pink background above the following text. text: A vibrant trans celebration, with gasoline is a Molotov thrown at heteropatriachy that ignites a vicious fire. Defiantly calling to attention ordinary and extraordinary transphobia, this collection bares its teeth at the world and refuses to take “no” for an answer. The author's succinct and biting language gives their anger a beautiful clarity that resonates beside their unending resolve for embodying trans joy. If apathy and despair are getting the better of you in these times, with gasoline is the fuel you need to rebirth your phoenix. Sarah Klein, author of Mast Cell Mathematics: A Chronic Illness Calculus with gasoline offers an explosive bouquet of occasional poems for uncommon times, whether after cruel executive orders, during frustrating focus group conversations, or perilous moments that demand one's survival instincts. Their poems’ propulsive engine is fueled by righteous anger, moral clarity, and political courage. raum takes aim at transphobes, billionaires, bootlickers, boomers, and milquetoast liberals alike—in other words becoming “your worst fucking nightmare”—to help us envision instead a future of trans liberation. Evelyn Berry, author of Grief Slut and T4T
July 23, 2025 at 2:06 PM
sadeebee.bsky.social
I have plenty of copies left from my event. If you would like a copy (shipped US), order here!!

First 16 orders receive a limited edition bookplate!!

artbysadeebee.bigcartel.com/product/my-h...

#indielit @dogleechbooks.bsky.social
July 14, 2025 at 3:17 AM
sadeebee.bsky.social
AHHHHHHH ITS RELEASE DAY!!!!
July 10, 2025 at 7:08 PM
sadeebee.bsky.social
If you loved Hit Me Hard and Soft by Billie Eilish, you’re gonna love My Hurt Shall Devour You by Sadee Bee!!

Release day July 10!! @dogleechbooks.bsky.social

PRE-ORDER NOW AT DOGLEECHBOOKS.CARRD.CO

#poetry #queerpoetry #queerbooks #indiepress #litmag #billieeilish #hitmehardandsoft
July 9, 2025 at 4:04 PM
sadeebee.bsky.social
I’m starting a StampFans! For just $3 you get a postcard featuring an art piece and one poem by me!

The first post card is already uploaded and ready to go!

#art #indielit #stampfans #artist

www.stampfans.com/creator-deta...
Ekphrastic by Sadee Bee
A StampFans Publication
www.stampfans.com
July 5, 2025 at 11:47 PM
sadeebee.bsky.social
Love a fabulous contributor copy! Thank you @troublemakerfire.bsky.social!!

#indielit
July 5, 2025 at 7:40 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
sadeebee.bsky.social
So nervous and excited to share this!

My Hurt Shall Devour You, I a poetry collection I wrote in the final year of my marriage. From the emotional abuse, the invalidation, the DARVO, and the moment I chose to wake up and free myself.

So happy it has a home with @dogleechbooks.bsky.social
June 13, 2025 at 1:51 AM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
sadeebee.bsky.social
My Hurt Shall Devour You, is a poetry collection I wrote in the final year of my marriage. From the emotional abuse, the invalidation, the DARVO, and the moment I chose to wake up and free myself.

Preorder now!

#poetry #books #indielit

@dogleechbooks.bsky.social
June 13, 2025 at 2:20 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
sadeebee.bsky.social
More praise for My Hurt Shall Devour You from @gr8earlofhell.bsky.social!

Preorder today from @dogleechbooks.bsky.social!

moth-eaten-mag.square.site/product/my-h...

#poetry #books #indielit
More praise for My Hurt Shall Devour You from @gr8earlofhell!! ““Fueled by endless need,” Sadee Bee’s collection My Hurt Shall Devour You delves into the abyss of what it means to be consumed by love. Anyone who has ever been called “too sensitive,” rejoice—Bee has you covered with a devotion, an obsession, an incantation so powerful, it would knock the average reader on their ass. Steep in their hurt, and let it devour you. — nat raum, author of this book will not save you and camera indomita”
June 17, 2025 at 2:44 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
sadeebee.bsky.social
🥰🥰🥰🥰
June 26, 2025 at 1:19 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
kithbooks.bsky.social
A photo collage of 60+ book covers accompanied by the following text: kith est 2022 trans, queer, and disabled owned and operated submissions always welcome wim@kithbooks.com the funny little press making funny little books
December 18, 2024 at 6:02 AM
sadeebee.bsky.social
🥰🥰🥰🥰
June 26, 2025 at 1:19 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
corporeallitmag.bsky.social
You can now read the complete Corporeal volume XIX at corporeallitmag.com/volume-xix

Feeling inspired? Our inbox is open for volume XX
Corporeal vol XIX appears against a background of large white and red flowers surrounded by green foliage
June 26, 2025 at 1:08 PM
Reposted by Sadee Bee
kithbooks.bsky.social
TOMORROW!!!
pre-order today and you'll wake up to Jump Cut in your inbox tomorrow
kithbooks.bsky.social kith books @kithbooks.bsky.social · May 29
Helen Gu draws on the body, the landscape, & the four walls domestic in her circumvolution of matrilineal spoor. Daughters: be softer, be smaller; be grateful. Mothers are memory, are forged without kind. Jump Cut is a leap with a tow line, the grasp of a talon on ankle mid fledge..
Jump Cut Helen Gu cover: Three red snappers hang to dry over a place setting of plate, glass, and wire cloche. The tails of the the top third of the image is taken over by orange smoke that obscures one of their tails. The image is in the style of an oil painting. text: Listen. When you have a daughter, you’ll understand how to burn your body to keep her warm. How to burn her body to keep her close. Selkie I peel my body for the skin beneath the skin. Carcass outside ocean. The boy I love tells me I’m beautiful and I swallow him. He presses the blubber against his face, hangs it in the living room out of reach. I club myself for pelt: scrape fat off my body with a cleaver, flayed out. The last time I saw you, I salted my tongue with seawater until my skin osmosed into my hands, spilling away. Flint flake, shark tooth. You stretch it until it does not fit my body. My mouth shrivels and falls away. October rainfall puddling in your palms. Your fingers rammed down my throat, reaching for an antecedent. There are yesterdays but no tomorrows, there is: my cerebrum in your mouth, skin lining your stomach like an overcoat. Frothing at the lips—the drain in the kitchen sink swallows us both. Family Gathering As Mother’s Pregnancy Cravings My grandmother taught me a woman’s presence can be measured in negative space. Which is to say I am substantial as the empty layers in my mother ’s womb before light swaddled my raisined body into deliverance. Every summer in Shanghai, she slices tofu into peppered pillows, drizzles the skin with red sauce, spilling. Your mother craved this a lot when she was pregnant, she tells me. We knew you were going to be a girl. Sichuan peppercorn scattered across the surface like teeth, loosening. My mouth numbs into girlhood. The husk grinds in the mortar until I can taste the spice stipple on my tongue. Between outline and filament, I am spilling body: splayed on the cutting board, barely even meat. Until I am bloodied instead of plain. I am too numb to feel the measuring tape cutting into my flesh, to watch it tighten. I am sixteen and still too afraid to shrink from girl into woman so I stay simmering inside the clutch of time- lessness. My grandmother tells me I will never be as beautiful as I am now. I do not believe the lipstick-stained plate. It’s cloudy here today, but the sun still beats through our skin. My grandmother complains about condensation cracking skin barrier: the age spotting her skin, the severance freckling mine. I touch the sun-streaked, milk- stained cheek; in the kitchen, she and I are shrinking. In Jump Cut, Helen Gu finds herself in proximity with memory. Framing each poem as a snapshot, Gu explores the definition of vulnerability: life before her existence, how the skin “mottles with guilty verdicts, almost small enough to forget”; transformative rage. These are poems, anatomy, drenched in the somatic. Gu asks the reader to explore the corners of motherhood, of mythology, of “a stomach pallid as a rotting lotus.” Jump Cut doesn't want to be read in one sitting—it prompts the reader to examine, to question, come back to it over and over; to infinitely rebirth. Jaiden Geolingo, author of How to Migrate Ghosts
June 24, 2025 at 1:26 PM