Category Archives: Featured Poets

Don’t know anything about this month’s feature? Now you do!

Paula Deen Bakes Me A Cake

By Devin Devine

even though I told her I hate cake.
Which, how could I truly hate
cake, if I loved all the things comprised:

eggs, flour, sugar, cream cheese
frosting, butter. I simply hadn’t
ate the right cake. She had the best
cake recipe. Everyone who has
ate her cake has told her it was
amazing. Five star cake.

She slides a slice in front of me
with the same confidence
of an unsolicited portrait of yet
another dick in my inbox.

I wish all these greedy people
with butter covered bodies
would listen to me the first time.

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Next up: Devin Devine

Your next featured poet this month is a several time SPS team member. Stay tuned for poems! For now, here’s this lovely poet’s bio:

Devin Devine is a writer, comedian, and performer from Spokane, Washington. Former host of Spokane’s weekly poetry reading Broken Mic, as well as a member of Spokane’s 2015 & 2017 & 2018 NPS Teams. She is one of the current slam masters and hosts of Spokane Poetry Slam. She laughs and writes her way through issues of trauma, addiction, mental health, and sexuality. She is the author of three self-published chapbooks ‘Feral Empathy,’ ‘Crying on the Toilet,’ and her most recent ‘Domestic & Fowl. She also writes and self-publishes crime series ‘Kiss the Messenger’ with partner and co-author Tony Russell. This fall she will be pursuing her MFA in Poetry at Eastern Washington University.

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Vegetation Season

by Nick Keaty

Partly charm of old
partly convinced by
some pattern of
misted labor
vivid shadows
vivid vegetation
we feel ourselves
sinking into the specificity
and the habit
rummaging for anything
when my eyes refuse to close at night
after reasonable time tossing i slip on
a pair of sweats
and i get in my car
i don’t know where i am going
usually i just buckle up
and drive by this time of night
i can’t think of a song to fit my mood
but i find rehearsing my own poetry
to an empty vehicle is just the kind
of soothing i need when i feel convinced
my creative self has laid down
i somehow find myself
at the late-night diner
i claim my seat at the far right booth
the waitress greets me with my hot chocolate
two eggs cracked over-easy on hashbrowns
i reach for my pencil
and, allowing myself,
like the egg
to crack open over the page and run
into some pattern
rummaging for anything
sinking into the specificity
partly charm of old
partly convinced by
misted labor
vivid shallows
vivid vegetation

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