Glass Poetry Press
Precision · Vision · Inclusion
An avid introvert, full-time carbon-based life-form & aspiring himbo, Ashley Cline (& watch how easily the jaw sings of god) crash-landed in south Jersey some time ago, & still calls that strange land home. A Best of the Net 2020 finalist, her poetry has appeared in 404 Ink, Okay Donkey, & Parentheses Journal, among others. Once, in the summer of 2019, she crowd-surfed an inflatable sword to Carly Rae Jespen, & her best at all-you-can-eat sushi is 5 rolls in 11 minutes. Twitter: @the_Cline. Instagram: @clineclinecline.
author photo
© James Cuartero
This book unmade me like only something feral can. There is yearning in these pages and music, too. There is something powerful about the way that space becomes a metaphor for longing, the hunger of the imagery, and how the jaw sings a love poem so sweetly. This book held me tenderly like only moon light can and reminded me of how heavy our ghosts can be.
— jd hegarty, author of the clearest blue
Also by Ashley Cline:
to eat the sleeping sky, whole
. . .& other tricks to keep us warm
on being found at the base of a martian cliff in spring
mast years, or i am once again wishing we could be trees
when the diving duck disappears (where does he go?)
everything everything, or how we used to sing fall out boy together (in pieces)
the night the clouds came crashing in we were playing Chinese checkers
. . .& other tricks to keep us warm
on being found at the base of a martian cliff in spring
mast years, or i am once again wishing we could be trees
when the diving duck disappears (where does he go?)
everything everything, or how we used to sing fall out boy together (in pieces)
the night the clouds came crashing in we were playing Chinese checkers
