top of page


by Kersten Christianson

Drunk corvidae

shake the branches

of the mountain

ash: teeter, stretch,

devour fermented

fruit. In this day's

ascending light,

the silhouette

of a single

raven balanced

in the alder.

This is how you

create the wind;

this is how you

ride it.


by Kersten Christianson

Welcome to Planet Loneliness!

Among wordless, still craters

you float without gravity

from one aimless task to another:

Scrub, file, sweep. Nearly a year

since orbiting into dark matter

borders remain undefined.

Eyes well-adjusted to nightfall,

newly opened to the world.

There are tears, but they could

be the brittle glimmer of stars,

the flash of the Milky Way.



Kersten Christianson is a raven-watching, moon-gazing, Alaskan. When not exploring the summer lands and dark winter of the Yukon, she lives in Sitka, Alaska. Kersten is the author of two books of poetry:  What Caught Raven’s Eye (Petroglyph Press, 2018) and Something Yet to Be Named (Aldrich Press, 2017).   She is the poetry editor of the quarterly journal, Alaska Women Speak, and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Alaska Anchorage.

bottom of page