BARE has new interviews with poets:

Bill Abbott

Marcus Whalbring

Sophia Shen


Cancer Scars

Alea Ramsey


She wore her scars like wings
This life has hurt her with no regret.
This world has changed her into someone new.
Those sweet ocean eyes forget
What they’ve seen that made them smile.
They’re filled with painful memories
That cascade down her broken body.
Her scars mark her skin like pen on paper.
Creating a figure of more than the outline.
Those scars with a story bring her to life.
They lift her to the stars and
Off the uneven ground.
They hug her like the night holds
The moon.
And she’ll fly away
Light as a feather
Strong as a sword
Until she can’t see this earth anymore.


Under the Weather

"Jane Doe"


My Conifer yearns 

for love, just like anybody else.

She'd fall head over heels everyday for her unadmitting, 

golden sweetheart,

Though her blunt stilettos dig deep into the ground

And her prickly nose lifts high towards the sky — 

no one can notice her helpless dive.

The Wind thrills as his touch evokes a whisper 

from her chapped lips,

As the Earth forever longs for her to trip 

into his soft, green arms.


My Conifer's love only remains towards the ever-traveling Autumn.

She wishes for him to caress a blush 

across her figure, and whisk her 

of her leaves.


Autumn's harem has no place for an Evergreen.

She remains helpless to the courts of the Wind and Earth

(who, dare I say, are never loverless),

And resilient against the aggressive plays of Winter.


Hannah Myers

It’s interesting how

You never see the same sunset twice

I like forget other people

Exist in my world too

I like to skip

In the rain

And draw

In the snow

The faces of the forgotten


But now everything beautiful

Is faded

Faded from the beating sun

It just doesn’t stop, does it

Coming back day to day

To haunt us

To remind us

We’re still here


It’s hard to live

In a world that doesn’t love

It’s hard to love

In a world that refuses to live

All I see are people dwelling

Sinking in a muck

A muck in the beating sun

That continues to swallow

And never dry

Simply just



Medals, 2020

Hayden Jay

Colored pencil on paper


Alana Sayat

Albert laughed, looking up at the bloodied sunset.


“Hell of a Tuesday, eh?” he said, looking around at the men. They were all soaked in sweat, their skin flaking off onto the ground. They glared at Albert, squinting at him in tired fury. 


Albert went around the circle of men, thumping each of them on their backs in quick succession.


They winced as he came around to them, cheerful as ever. Robert sighed, finally standing up to meet Albert’s eye. 


“Boss, I dunno what we’re doin’ here, but this geology fellowship ain’t very fruitful so far. I think I can safely speak for all o’ us when I say we ain’t sure you’ve been leadin’ us quite right,” Robert explained, gesturing around the circle. 


Albert laughed, a little too forcefully. 


“Not leadin’ well, huh? Y’all ain’t able to see that my erosion techniques are the best in the whole goddamn world. You’ll see in time. It requires a little thing y’all don’t know called patience,” said Albert. 


The men frowned in confusion. One man, wiping the dirt off his forehead, timidly raised his hand. 


“What is it, lad?” Albert snapped. 


“I’m sorry sir, but you called your techniques of settin’ off bombs in the caverns erosion techniques? It just don’t quite make sense to me. You see, I’d understand if we went down to the Mississippi River to see the erosion along the riverbed, but blowin’ up the caverns is jus-” 


Albert laughed again. 


“Y’all just don’t know leadership. Bein’ a leader requires innovation, new techniques, and y’all are just too close-minded to see that. Leaders take charge, head the way into the battle. They’re first in lin’ for the action. Y’all wanna see leadership? I’ll show you leadership. Imma march down to that cavern right now and show y’all what this fellowship is all about. Y’all wanna see leadership, then follow me.” yelled Albert. 


No man went after Albert as he marched out of sight down the dusty path. They could hear him hooting and hollering, but they didn’t bother to see what kind of trouble he would get into.


After a few minutes of silence, Robert looked up in alarm. 


“Wasn’t the next round of explosives set to go off at-” 


A loud bang could be heard in the background, followed by a petrified scream. The men all jumped in their seats, but didn’t get up. 


“So much for leadership,” sighed Robert.

The Day Our Planet Dies

Cato Weisberg


Today is the day our planet dies. You sit on your back porch with a hand in your hand solemnly thinking of all that will be lost. The history, the stories, the memories you have of yourself and others sitting on this very porch. All gone. Everyone you have ever loved gone, everything you have ever hated gone. All gone. But how gone are they really? Their atoms will be scattered but you take solace in knowing that their matter will never be destroyed. Maybe billions of years from now they will be a part of life forms we could have never dreamed of. Forming new history, new stories, new memories…  

A blinding light flashes, their hand slips as simultaneously the lives of all the many living things on the planet come to an end and the planet’s various atoms begin a journey of many lightyears, searching for a purpose.


Alana Becker


Gazing at me with an empty stare
she calls out my feelings
like no one has. The one who
lost her breath
spitting meaningless words
to a grown woman with a half-listening ear.
I climb down the stairs to the main room
where I meet her eye to eye, only
this time she walks
through my spinning head.
This time she is not there.

Anticipation, 2020

Hayden Jay

Pen on paper