Sennah Yee

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sailing across a void,
cheery sun-soaked self-delusion.

everyday in the night sky means something different.
some of us will only live in the worst of galaxies and stars.
there’s nothing there. cruel and chilly bones, blue clouds draped in braids. maybe dust.

that was once home.
this is where we flew, turned into scars.


Kriss, Sam. “Manifesto of the Committee to Abolish Outer Space.” The New Inquiry. 2 Feb 2015. Web.
Mixed by the Text Mixing Desk at The Lazarus Corporation.




she longs to explore deep space
speak to altered monsters
redefine her self to the enemy
as a dangerous survivor.

Haraway, Donna. “A Cyborg Manifesto.” The Cybercultures Reader. Ed. David Bell and Barbara M. Kennedy. London: Routledge, 2000. 314. Print.




do you think it will rain?
when a river wants water,
what does it do?

did you know that there are as many kinds of stillness?
when you haven't the answer to a question,
the hush of a country road at night,

or, most beautiful of all,
the moment after the door closes
and you're all alone in the whole house?

what would happen if you stopped?
what could be nicer than these grimy mountains?
why not sit for a moment and rest?

you can never catch up—so why bother?
you did say it was going to rain,
didn't you?

using only sentences with questions in them from:
Juster, Norman. The Phantom Tollbooth. New York: Random House, 1961. Print.


Sennah Yee is from Toronto. She is the author of the poetry/non-fiction collection How Do I Look? (Metatron Press, 2017). She is currently a Cinema & Media Studies PhD student at York University, focusing her thesis on gendered robot design.