Susan L. Leary
LightNews LightNews
banner
susanlleary.bsky.social
Susan L. Leary
@susanlleary.bsky.social
2.6K followers 1.6K following 980 posts
Poet | MORE FLOWERS (Trio House Press 2026) | DRESSING THE BEAR (Louise Bogan Award, Trio House Press) | A BUFFET TABLE FIT FOR QUEENS (Washburn Prize, Small Harbor Publishing) + 2 📚| Mayah 🐶 | www.susanlleary.com
Posts Replies Media Videos
Pinned
susanlleary.bsky.social
Susan L. Leary @susanlleary.bsky.social · Aug 14
🌸COVER REVEAL🌸 for MORE FLOWERS & it’s a beauty! I’m grateful to so many: @triohousepress.org, @krisbigalk.bsky.social, @natashakane.bsky.social & to @fascicles.bsky.social, @kcbrattpfotenhauer.bsky.social, & @cynthiamhoffman.bsky.social for their kind, generous words!

Pre-order link in comments!
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
litbowl.bsky.social
What a build. What a final line.

From @victoriachang.bsky.social's book, The Trees Witness Everything: bookshop.org/a/862/9781556596322

#poem #books #writing
November 14, 2025 at 5:48 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
suzyeynon.bsky.social
New short story in the Fall issue of The Account! "There Has Been an Emergency"

theaccountmagazine.com/article/eyno...
There Has Been an Emergency | The Account: A Journal of Poetry, Prose, and Thought
theaccountmagazine.com
November 14, 2025 at 5:31 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
Albert York
A painting by Albert York of several striking red flowers, perhaps carnations, in a vase. The vase is tightly framed, so there is very little room on any side beyond the redness of the flowers. The brushwork is visible such that the longer the eye lingers on a particular flower or leaf or stem or other place in the painting, the more it develops a topology, a personality, a voice.
November 14, 2025 at 4:11 AM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
vikkicwrites.bsky.social
A new winter-themed offering 'ADVENT' written for #Toptweetuesday hosted by @blackboughpoetry.bsky.social @matthewmcsmith.bsky.social

Thank you for the magical inspiration across all seasons 🤍

#poetrycommunity #WritingCommunity #poetry #imagist #winter
ADVENT Snow falling in continuous tense as if nothing has strayed. And what to do but begin again, decorating this palace for you. Unpacking the tangled fable, choiring all the ways to give and give. The field off-white, its halflight a train carrying would-be joy towards silence. Who would have witnessed the blue horses candling the steps of my body? Or December’s thin bell we pretend is not the toll. Our feet invisible under white —but our prints everywhere on Earth. Vikki C.
November 11, 2025 at 4:41 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
perugiapress.bsky.social
Joan Kwon Glass & janan alexandra will close out the Fall 2025 Reading Series from the BDPC at Smith College in Weinstein Auditorium on 12/2 @ 7pm & be in convo after w/Rebecca Hart Olander. Hope you’ll join us to celebrate poetry in community! @joankwonglass.bsky.social @rholanderpoet.bsky.social
November 13, 2025 at 11:18 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
leguinbot.bsky.social
No darkness lasts forever. And even there, there are stars.
November 14, 2025 at 4:15 AM
susanlleary.bsky.social
Jill Osier 🤎

Beautiful poem, beautiful poet.

@bullcitypress.com
THEY'RE SAYING NOW THAT FEATHERS ARE MOSTLY LIGHT, THAT WINGS ARE MOSTLY NOT THERE But sometimes it's warm enough for the neighbor to stand in the field and brush out her horse's tail. She knows the sun slips through it. The horse, two-toned, is losing a winter coat, the day a world slipping through its own hands. Dusk will lead them out to a road that leads out of town, and she'll teach it how to walk this way, through shadow.
November 13, 2025 at 4:24 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
sad minds think alike,

Mary Ruefle
Go Verbatim I live in the figurative world where nothing exists not even a chair except the one I am sitting on as I walk le boulevard when Francie comes up and pulls it out from under me. You live in a fantasy world! she exclaims upon examining it. Et tu, Francine, I say, what is your mind made of? Disappearing soap or a candle that won’t blow out? And when I had her weeping I said Francie sit down, teach me how to say sad minds think alike, you know, the repetitious way.
November 13, 2025 at 3:17 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
litbowl.bsky.social
From The Essential W.S. Merwin: bookshop.org/a/862/9781556595134

#poem #books #writing
November 11, 2025 at 6:38 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
vikkicwrites.bsky.social
Grateful & honoured by this beautiful praise for In the Blueprint of Her Iris from multi-award-winning poet and novelist Catherine Graham.

Ty to all who've purchased this book. Poetry by Vikki C. & exquisite art by @rfredekenter.bsky.social. Available from @icefloepress.bsky.social. Link below 💙
Praise for In the Blueprint of Her Iris Dreamy, hypnotic and musically driven, the poems from In the Blueprint of Her Iris unfold and release with lush transformation. Accompanied by Robert Frede Kenter’s evocative art, these collaborations complement and enrich one another. Charged and reaching, they move through liminal spaces and beyond, creating an immersive experience for readers to dwell in. ”Duplicity in every naked frame.”Delicate yet weighty, these poems and images touch light. “How I am obliged to hunt for something that outruns me.” — Catherine Graham (Put Flowers Around Us & Pretend We’re Dead)
November 13, 2025 at 10:14 AM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
melostrom.bsky.social
Marbled blue & green bowl, heading to Florida today. A little sad to see this one go.💚🩵💙 #pottery
November 13, 2025 at 3:01 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
bradley-david.com
JMWW Journal is open for poetry, CNF, fiction, and hybrid/beyond genre submissions. Closes 11/15

jmww.submittable.com/submit
JMWW Submission Manager
jmww is a literary journal publishing fiction, flash, poetry,  hybrid work, essays, interviews, and other miscellany weekly. We are happy you found us!We want to see your work, but don't be all stalke...
jmww.submittable.com
November 12, 2025 at 2:56 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
pdforan.bsky.social
"What’s autumn?"

"... her soft white hands, tipped in a tasteful nude, she would later tell my mom."

“Leaves fall?”

Avon Calling You an Autumn When You Know You Are Summer by @lumchanmfa.bsky.social in Bitter Over Sweet, from @sfwp.bsky.social
November 13, 2025 at 3:54 AM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
stonecirclereview.bsky.social
Stone Circle #ThrowbackThursday poem : "The Flooded Grave" by Jared Beloff (@readinstead.bsky.social) #TBT

stonecirclereview.com/the-flooded-...
The Flooded Grave
by Jared Beloff   Sweat fell from the digger’s brow or maybe rain from the gray sky; it was just a little water, nothing to worry about until they felt their legs pulled down into it. They grabbed th...
stonecirclereview.com
November 13, 2025 at 2:15 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
ironoakeditions.bsky.social
Need honest, constructive criticism to maximize your manuscript’s potential? Consider working with one of our professional editors who can offer detailed developmental feedback.

Meet the team and get further details below:

buff.ly/wzxcnkB

#writingcommunity
November 13, 2025 at 4:04 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
poetrydaily.bsky.social
Today’s Featured Poem:

“Satisfiable” by MaKshya Tolbert from Shade is a Place published by @penguinbooksusa.bsky.social

Read here:
poems.com/poem/satisfi...
Satisfiable
Like trees I wear time    on my body
poems.com
November 13, 2025 at 4:05 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
darrencdemaree.bsky.social
Tonight!
November 13, 2025 at 12:54 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
mrwojorising.bsky.social
It's me. I'm the almost-40-year-old. Buy yourself some postcards to celebrate my aging body and soul!
postcardlit.bsky.social Postcard @postcardlit.bsky.social · 1d
It's our editor's/founder's/designer's 40th birthday on Friday so today through Sunday, issues 2 and 3 are 40% off! Pick up your copies here: postcardlit.com/store
November 13, 2025 at 1:19 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
irishali13.bsky.social
Poem For your Thursday - 🔥
~ Jessica L. Walsh
When My Daughter Tells Me I Was Never Punk
—I say, hon, my being alive is punk. I made my life out of grudges when I saw the odds placed against me,
when my role was to marry a man who'd kill me/ How did I get here? I say, By my fucking teeth.
WHEN MY DAUGHTER TELLS ME I WAS NEVER PUNK I say, hon, my being alive is punk. I made my life out of grudges when I saw the odds placed against me, when my role was to marry a man who'd kill me and give me my hot young death, a guy named Charles who would have and nearly did—the day I said fuck you and threw his keys in the snow? That was punk. When I called a nice guy who'd loved me steady and thought what if I can try staying alive, that was punk; when I had my last drink and surrendered the scene, that too was punk, and yes I miss the me who would be dead because I was a bottle rocket, a pipe bomb of a good time but my being alive is the middle finger I never put down— I did not let these days go by, I clawed each one from dirt. When I get my nails done I am cleaning weapons, when I buy food, when I fill the tank, I am threatening to survive long enough to piss off a million awful people to be alive in spite of, I am promising to stay flagrantly alive: This is my beautiful house. I am this beautiful wife. How did I get here? I say, By my fucking teeth.
November 13, 2025 at 1:01 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
neonpajamas.bsky.social
Sébastien Luc Butler
TRIPTYCH A boy keeps a dead bird like pride covers shame. A dead bird keeps to its shoebox like a boy holds it tongue. A shoebox hides in a boy like a bird’s heartbeat beneath feathers. A feather hides its bird like blood cuts a boy’s words. A boy is a bird flapping against the sides of a shoebox. A dead boy is an uncovered shoebox, filled with a light too bright.
November 13, 2025 at 1:42 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
zeeshanpathan.bsky.social
I feel therefore I can be free.

—Audre Lorde
November 13, 2025 at 1:55 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
andrewbertaina.bsky.social
ICYMI three new shorts up at Heavy Feather Review

heavyfeatherreview.org/2025/11/12/b...
Side A: Three Fictions by Andrew Bertaina
The Prayers of Strangers He pulled off at the gas station on the side of the road, gravel and rubber. At the pump, the attendant asked him if he wanted to confess anything. He’d forgotten that thin…
heavyfeatherreview.org
November 13, 2025 at 2:00 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
readalittlepoem.bsky.social
“We are dust and to dust return.”

— Pablo Neruda

.
.
.

This poem appeared in Odes to Common Things by Pablo Neruda, published by Bulfinch Press, 1994. Shared here with deep gratitude.
November 13, 2025 at 2:02 PM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
ewenglass.bsky.social
So happy that some of my favourite poets and authors had such kind words for my new poetry chapbook. Thank you @susanlleary.bsky.social! If You Stand in the Corner of the Spare Room You Can Just About See the Sea is out tomorrow from @inkfishmagazine.bsky.social 🌊
November 13, 2025 at 10:15 AM
Reposted by Susan L. Leary
chowleen.bsky.social
The room is
almost all
elephant.
Almost none
of it isn’t.
Pretty much
solid elephant.
So there’s no
room to talk
about it.

-Kay Ryan, “The Elephant in the Room”
#everynightapoem
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM Kay Ryan The room is almost all elephant. Almost none of it isn't. Pretty much solid elephant. So there's no room to talk about it.
November 13, 2025 at 12:13 AM