Ghost Town Poetry Open Mic Zoom Edition Featuring Carey Taylor June 11, 2020 — PRINTED MATTER VANCOUVER

NOTE: Due to circumstances beyond everyone’s control, this month’s reading will take place over Zoom. Email by no later than 3 pm on June 11 to indicate your interest in participating. In the subject line, let us know if you are “Reading” or “Just Listening.” You will receive instructions for how to join the […]

Ghost Town Poetry Open Mic Zoom Edition Featuring Carey Taylor June 11, 2020 — PRINTED MATTER VANCOUVER

I am so delighted to be reading for Ghost Town Poetry on June 11. This is my first zoom poetry reading, and I expect to read for 10 to 12 minutes. I hope some of you will follow the link above and join us.

Thanks again to Christopher Luna, poet and advocate of the arts for inviting me to read. And while these are unusual times I find hope that we are still able to find ways to share our words together.

Yours in poetry,


Carey Taylor, Surfacing — DODGING THE RAIN

Surfacing to have even an ocean’s chance of swimming in that phosphorescent glow you know is your center the one that too often slips out between your legs like silky kelp or the men you love but cannot hold onto attach yourself like a barnacle to the belly of a whale— dive deep into saltwater […]

Carey Taylor, Surfacing — DODGING THE RAIN

Pandemic Poem #1

Carey Taylor, Poetry


We wash our hands for the front-liners, the nurses
and doctors who have disappeared, died, lost jobs,
got sick, isolated themselves to protect others—
those cherry blossom caregivers.

We wash our hands for the truth-tellers. The ones
who go public about a shortage of N-95 masks,  
overwhelmed systems, the dangers of drinking aquarium
chemicals—those voices that use science to guide us.

We stay home for the firefighters, EMTs, janitors,
grocery store clerks, delivery drivers, warehouse
workers—that hive of bees who continue to work,
and feed our lives with their sweet cells of honey.

We stay home for the nurse who is managing our parent’s
care.  The one who is a single parent of four kids now home
from school who calls our family to see how we are doing—
her small boat filled to the gunwale with compassion.

And when the world begins to find some order, let us not
forget the mountains they had to climb, the thin air they inhaled,
the demand of one more step.  Let us offer to remove their
mud-caked boots—let us kneel—and tend their blistered feet.

Yours in poetry,


Carey Taylor, Diagnosed — DODGING THE RAIN

Carey Taylor is the author of The Lure of Impermanence (Cirque Press, 2018). Her poetry has appeared in regional, national, and international publications and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Born in Bandon, Oregon, she has spent her entire life at the western edges of Oregon and Washington. She currently lives and writes from […]

Carey Taylor, Diagnosed — DODGING THE RAIN

I am honored to be included once again in this lovely journal which was born and spiritually resides in Galway, Ireland. Check them out—they publish poems from around the world and their visuals are stunning.

Yours in poetry,


It's Been Awhile

I have taken the last few months off from the world for some internal reflection. The death of four people in my family in 12 months caused me to turn inward, to withdraw socially and surround myself with only my greatest loves: husband, family, books, poetry, home, open spaces, neighborhood walks, and yes, I will admit, binge watching High Fidelity and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Thank you Rob and Midge for making me laugh.

And now it is Spring and out my writing window I see yellow daffodils, orange pansies and purple hellebore. The 70 year-old camellia is laden in the softest of pink blooms and the neighbor’s cherry trees are ready to pop.

And for those of you who have followed my “car wash” photos, last week I took my car to get washed and began taking pictures for the 2020 series.

I submitted five new poems (the first submission in almost a year) and heard yesterday a journal in Galway, Ireland called Dodging the Rain will publish them in May and June.

By allowing myself permission to withdraw from the world for awhile, to grieve and acknowledge the losses, the color bursting before me is calling my name to rejoin the ranks.

Or it could have been the Prozac. Either way, I am doing just fine.

Carey Taylor Photography

Yours in poetry,



Carey Taylor Photography

I stand at the threshold
where one thing
becomes another.

I choose sky.
Sitka spruce.

Return of
snowy plover.

Yours in poetry,