Poems & Publications

Here’s a partial collection of my creative written work.

We Poets 

2008 Second Place Winner of Blue Mountain Arts Eleventh Biannual poetry contest

'Cause that's what poets do 

We look beyond what's obvious 

pulled into the spaces 

between the lines 

We look for the corners 

and the shadows 

drawn to trash-treasures 

and debilitating views 

We weave in wonder with waste 

We stand in front of the questions 

and chance a head-on collision 

with the answers 

we 

expose 

incinerate 

crash 

and create 

We're truth wearers 

We scream, cry, whisper, and sing 

the world's thinking 

The words turn us inside out 

throw us off cliffs 

and challenge us some more 

they hold us responsible 

for telling their stories 

for displaying their scars 

for shedding their layers 

for holding them in the night 

and promising daylight 

and they — the words 

deliver on miracles 

The words are mountains inside valleys 

illuminating abysses 

and sometimes shaking 

hands with them 

Our words slay dragons 

of misconceptions 

pull the blinders off perception 

and cut right through the grain

Yeah 

our words stroll in Paris 

naked and unapologetic 

effective and unaffected 

'cause that's what our words do 

Poets welcome the edges 

and the unkept 

we eat the heels of bread 

and pocket eggshells 

We caress the discarded 

and hold mirrors up to humanity 

and we'd do best to keep 

that mirror on us 

for a gentle continuum 

of self-eval 

Healthiness 

Make sure pride 

doesn't tarnish the craft 

and heads stay small 

We are student 

as well as teacher 

we look on the words 

with amazement also 

We're healed by digest 

our own food 

feeds us too 

At times vulnerable 

other times anonymous 

too often synonymous 

with only happiness 

anger or sadness 

we 

are 

so 

much 

more 

We're a newborn's first breath 

and giggling high-school sweethearts 

We're seducing suns 

and pink beaches 

We are stage fright 

and therapy couch-dwellers 

We're apples and peanut butter sandwiches 

College kids choking on cigarettes

We're gusts of wind that escaped 

through the cracks of windows 

We're leaky faucets that refuse to get fixed 

and 9 to 5'ers without deodorant 

We are sidewalks and stars 

Solomon and The Three Stooges 

We're Nyquil at dusk 

but wellness at dawn 

We're Tastykakes 

lemons 

and Sourpatches 

We're not always 

coming from honest places 

for sometimes we 

covet each others' light 

and try to wear 

another's skin 

instead of embracing our own 

We've got some growing to do 

We poets pray for 

courage 

strength 

and even acceptance 

Sometimes we're on pause 

sometimes just on empty 

and we don't always 

have a poem for you 

embrace us 

we need hugs too 

We'll keep on emptying 

ourselves out 

refilling 

risking and falling 

slipping and dancing 

soaring 

laughing 

living 

and 

writing 

For that's what we poets do. 


Copyright2005byJaz

TrAuMa

(inspired by Angie Greco)


Starved

for attention-

positive or negative

they hate

the skin

they’re in

so callous

because of

their situations

easier for them to

push me away

because of home

easier for them to

envy

than to compliment

easier for them to

slice the knife both ways

so they won’t be the only one wounded

easier to rage-

it’s better than being background noise

easier to act like drywall

To expose the heart is certain death

They

arrive

in

bits

and

pieces

trynna build

on the bricks thrown at them

“It ain’t personal”

Angie says

She’s a Salve

to where their

Word-daggers dig into me

Why do teachers do it?

 Because

They Are Worth The Investment

Worth

Wholeness

 Worth

Celebration

Worth

Intercessions

 Worth

Agape love

Worth

Safe spaces

Worth the breaking of strongholds

 And the healing of generations

 They are worth the one that God sees…and…saves.

Copyright2023byJaz

writer

I must write because it will be balm for other sufferers. I must write so it’ll be digest for me. I must write because the words challenge the writer. I must write b/c the ink is my teacher. I must write to honor my Creator. I must write to confront the monsters of my soul. I must write to hold this flesh accountable. I must write so the lies don’t get mixed up in the truth. I must write so I won’t believe that lie. I must write to get out of mine & others’ heads. I must write as a celebration of how far I’ve come. I must write as a reminder of how far I can fall. I must write to express the sheer magnitude of gratitude that my heart can’t hold, over the love of Jesus. I must write to be read. I must write to be a mirror. I must write the ugly, only to show the beauty. I must write the ugly so it won’t be left in the dark to fester and manifest as a cancer on humanity. I must write the ugly, to show us that we’re all capable of it. I must write to breathe life into the mundane. I must write to show there’s purpose for dust…us. I must write because the world needs wholeness. I must write because our spirits need surgery, not band-aids. I must write to show the colors of mankind. To show the complexities of mankind. To show the wonders of mankind. To show the brokenness of mankind.

I must write so the words can be hugs.

I must write as a portal.

I will write because there are too many shadows trying to eclipse my sun.

I will write because we need to laugh.

I must write because I’m in a war.

I must write because the enemy never gives up

I must write

Because we need to forgive ourselves

Because there’s someone who wants to write, but can’t

Because there’s someone who doesn’t want to write, but must

Because words are opening up my pores

Because the unspoken needs a voice

I

Must

write

because

God

told

me

to.


Copyright2009byJaz

To Snatch Black Gold from Sunlight 

2020 Community Finalist in the Temple University-sponsored Short Fiction/Poetry contest by French publishing house Short Edition.

Racism

You are

A breathing wound

imprinted upon God's creation

Carved into the psyche of my ancestors

You are a brandished whip

Cross-stitched on the backs

Of my Brothers

Children

Sisters

Racism

You are

The tombs which boldly

traversed great oceans

To trade black blood for your profit,

entertainment & privilege

Racism

You are an

Institutional

Systemic

Oppressive

Global

Pandemic

That rolls over &

over into every century

To show your

diseased face

Like the bloated body

& bulged eyes

Of Emmett Till

Racism

You are a

Thief

of Pulse

and Purpose.

Of Laughter

Dignity

and Healing

Of Home

Value and

Humanity

Of Unity

Of Free

Of THE

AFRICAN AMERICAN

FAMILY TREE.

Racism you are the knee of

Amerikkka which

stole the breath from

George Floyd

and Breonna Taylor

YEAH...

SAY ALL OF THEIR NAMES.

Your wickedness is

in high places and low

Racism

It is time.

Way past time to

Break your stronghold

Torch your interruption

And Face

Your

History

I have

No

Answers

For you

Though...

That's your job.

I will no longer

hold up your mirror

with instructions on

dismantling your poisons

And I will not give you

what you can go

(re)searching for.

No

I am spirit-weary

and soul-tired

of the reruns on the

endless hashtags

of my existence

Your creators must

Do. The.

Work. Now.

Copyright2020byJaz

SPEAK!

Swallowing myself

In an endless

Tangle & tumble

Of touch and torque

Torrid.

Twisted.

I eat my tongue

while they feast on me

But I can’t bear to let it go unspoken

The body

Becomes the poetry.

Copyright2020byJaz

MINISTRY

LORD,

Somebody needs

Your WORD

wrapped around them

Your scriptures

Inscribed

on their cheek

to wipe out

the imprint of abuse

Your Psalms

in their

eyelids

Someone needs

The presence of your peonies

The Balm of Your aroma

Someone needs

The Great I AM…

And so, I write.

Copyright2023byJaz

I HEAR YOUR MOANING, PHILLY

Our hearts are a blaze

With the way evil breaks teeth

Scalps and scab’s kids’ knees

Children on a bus

Deserve providence and light

And pancakes at dawn

And so I lament

And ask the Holy Godhead

To destroy Strongholds.

Copyright2024byJaz

JAZ

Jaz is a jovial being rising early as the sun’s first customer

Amiable and accomplished with enough exuberance for all

Zealously putting the day to bed, while zestfully looking towards the promise of another sunrise


Copyright2024byJaz

P.O.E.T.R.Y.

Prolific, paramount, palatable, panoramic, peculiar

Obscure, offbeat, and observable

Ebullient, earthy, enigmatic and edible

Thrifty, tender, transient and teachable and tactile and tangible and temperamental!

Rambunctious, reliable, radiant and ravishing

Yearning, yearning, yearning.

Copyright2024byJaz

Please Don’t

Drop The Children

Always once more

and again

       will I try

They deserve

someone not giving up on them

            Scratching the face of help

Testing...against

       the spirit of rejection

Bucking

       against wounds

where familial word-swords landed...

                                             and bruised

They bite

and bully

one another…

                                 but

their light bends

behind the Cumulus

We’re all

pushing boulders for

the next generation.

Copyright2023byJaz

FREEMAN

My Great Uncle has tales tall and wide as El Árbol del Tule.

I can’t tell where the blur ends and begins.

Every person walking down the street has been cast in his story

“Oh, I know her!

She dated my cousin, then skipped town for parts unknown, before emerging to get hitched with my brother’s brother at the Justice of the Peace.
Shuuucks…ended up being my dentist!”

“Oh, I know him!

Met him in Mississippi. We were in the war together. Ran for our lives together

Wrestled alligators together. Went shopping for women, together”

The way he spins his words…Everyone feels and sounds famous to me!

Everydaypeople is his fodder

I don’t judge the shoes I may one day walk in

I just sit at his feet unraveling poetry

from the navel of his folklore.

Copyright2022byJaz

What Do The Crows Know?

Transient travelers

Screaming sojourners

house to lawn

line to pole

Bush to lake to concrete

Conversating

At the intersections of flight

Sleek wingspans in all their glory

Oh what do the crows know?

I witness

The ease and efficacy

Of their intricate choreography

Obstreperous concerts blundering on my ears

I hear some ant way below

in her car bellow out,

“Oh, would you

SHUT UPPPPP!”

While I long to caress thee Onyx

And cull sky secrets

From their caws.

Copyright2024 by Jaz

ENOUGH 

It’s

Time

Now

To

Outrun

Your shadows

And

Eat

The

Morning

Sun.

You are enough.

Enough of waning and wading in the shallows

Enough

You are enough.

Enough of living outside in-

The cheerleader is internal…they’ve always been there

Enough

You are enough.

Enough existing

Enough bowing low

and breaking in the bend

YOU ARE ENOUGH

Even if your family didn’t tell you

YOU ARE ENOUGH

Even if the words of humans shrunk you

YOU ARE ENOUGH!

Copyright2021byJaz

A GAPING EYE

This house-

Where the walls are weeping

The rocker’s

eating its own arms

and the colonial rugs

refuse to lay flat

They curl with corners

towards heaven

in defiance

and in

earnest

of praying us back home.

Copyright2023byJaz

A Song For Kalief

Climb every mountain

Ford every stream

The boots tasted like old, cracked earth inside his mouth

Choking on

His denials of freedom

The aging of his dreams

Follow every rainbow…

Well, he followed every rainbow

And he followed every rule

But only nightmares

found Kalief Browder

Inside

The  

Mouth

     Of      

America’s

Noose.

Till you find your dreams

Oh, you didn’t know?

America eats its

black youth

And swallows

them whole.

(red italics are lyrics from the interpolation of the song “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” by Oscar Hammerstein II)

Copyright2023byJaz

Spring 2022 Residency

Three months ago

Wind-cracked earth

took my face

The lava laden fissures swallowed my pen

I looked no more for ink

to consume the metaphors of morning

I lived outside of my poetry

where breathing hurt

and my heart could no longer trust a good-bye

Where were my words?

Didn’t I promise myself

that as an artist I would use it all?

The dust, the deafness, the bones, the dysfunctions

Why couldn’t I construct meaning

from the in-between?

Why didn’t the Sonnets save me!

Why didn’t I bend my ear a little closer to the page?

When did I stop listening to the white spaces?

Oh, silly poet!

How did I forget that

birth is in the dark spaces of the womb?

And the black of a butterfly’s wing

is needed as much as the light of it?

See I was becoming

the poetry that you now hear

So I’m thankful for the wilderness

And for now being on the other side of the wind.

Copyright2022byJaz

Betwixt Evening’s 8 and 9

As the last bit

of daylight slips

from the sun’s grip

The moon steps forth

extending fingertips

to

cut

and

paste

herself

into

the

night

sky.

Copyright2006 by Jaz

Belt of Truth.
Breastplate of Righteousness.
Shoes of Peace.
Shield of Faith.
Helmet of Salvation.
Sword of The Spirit.
Lance of Prayer & Supplication
(Spiritual Warfare)

Even with shattered knees

Fight

Even with bowed and broken head

Fight

Even with the stain of memories

Fight

Even with the soul bloated, tipsy from pain

Fight

Even with the heart caved in

Fight

Even with the lie of no light on the horizon

Fight

Even with the guardians of your upbringing dropping you

Fight

Even with the maiming of your mental health

Fight

Even with shackles having tantrums

Fight

Take yourself off the enemy’s auction block

And

Fight.

Copyright2023byJaz

A Gift from

Lucille

(For Lucille Clifton)

The words

lightning

held me fast

to the belly of compression

I burned

right there

in the

spark of

its brevity

Copyright2023byJaz

HILLS BOW FOREVER AT YOUR FEET

Hills Bow Forever at Your Feet is an ekphrastic poem based on this image

Every blade of grass sings to you…

mirrors the colors in your voice

Oceans clap their hands

in white foamy waves

Their smiles skimming the edges of great

reflected off the glimmer of the surface

You smile back

Mountains are the earth’s arms

eternally raised in praise

Waterfalls crash in jubilant excellence

at the creativity of your hands

Creation’s song

bounces off of and resonates between sky and sea

The sun rests in your magnificence

It’s light, reflecting yours

Flowers with their faces lifted to you

shimmering under heavens dew

as the trees stand at everlasting attention

in your presence.

Copyright2004 by Jaz

SONKU 4 SONIA

(For Sonia Sanchez)

The Wordsmith

          wondrously

  crocheting

              her bones of poetry

into me

Copyright2024byJaz

Groaning For A Perfect State

darkness

of

night

coil

round

usurp breath

from tired skin

I summon

my

light

to push

thru

rise up

outta

ash

and

dung

to the

One

whose

arms

hold

me

above

my

broken

 places 

Copyright2004byJaz

Other Publications-

Here are some of my creative writing pieces and an interview if you’d like to learn about me:


The Essentiality of Voice

Finding your voice through the craft of poetry.

Originally published on Substack: Project Write Now and Jaz. Bloom in the Struggle.

Jun 29, 2026

Did you always know your own voice?

Know that you could create, move, and shape worlds with it?

Are you aware that no one can sing your song but you?

In my childhood, adolescence, and teen years (and even some young adult years), I wasn’t cognizant of these truths. I wanted to be anyone and everyone else but me. I hadn’t met myself yet.

I can recall moments when the teacher asked questions, and I knew the answers (and was excited), but in a sea of hands, I denied my value and slipped into the shadows. Tears began to pool inside my soul and would form a stain, stagnant and longstanding. If you don’t know who you are, then you walk through this world on mute and unaware of your worth.

Even though the body of music sang through me and the voices of books, television, and movie characters bled into me, I hadn’t yet known there were symphonies of my own to compose.

I didn’t know I had the right to take up space. That the world would want to hear any words and sounds from me. That I did not have to apologize for my existence nor blanket my shine.

I always believed what others had to say carried much more weight than my whispers.

It was as if I waited on the world’s permission to speak, and when I finally did, I denied the very purpose and importance of my mouth…it’s right…to just be.

I’m sure that this is a huge part of why I’m a poet, songwriter, and teacher of poetry today. Why I fell in love with language. Why my ears naturally bend to melodies and harmonies, because it’s the acknowledgment, amplification, honor, and celebration of VOICE!

In my teaching of elementary students in the public school system, I affirm my kids' voices daily.

I encourage their inflections, cadences, pacing’s, questions, colors, and the freedom to behold their own glow.

I can always feel the searing pain of them not yet having discovered their right to fill spaces with their voice, or the white-hot embarrassment when one of my students can’t find their words. Their eyes reflect my own entrapment suffered years ago and the denial of my own speech. I can deeply sense their search for approval to use a voice different from others.

These moments mirror the me of yesteryear. I empathize with their struggles and hold space and compassion for their journeys.

Through my own storms of swallowing my tongue, I learned the painful but liberating and unforgettable life lessons to esteem, exhort, and uphold my voice without permission and to reach out and pour into others to help them do the same.

 

At Project Write Now, I have taught extensively on finding and nurturing your own voice through the creative writing craft and joy of poetry. Why it is imperative to lean into your poetic voice. How essential your story is and why it’s so important to hold your words in regard, reverence, and respect.

In that course, we explored the building blocks of poetry—figurative language, rhythm, repetition, and rhyme—then used writing prompts and exercises to push beyond boxes and boundaries. We experimented with poetic forms like Ekphrasis and Acrostic, dove into the art of editing to excavate our very best work, and studied the craft of wordsmiths like Ocean Vuong and Sonia Sanchez. Throughout, I offered writer-focused, generative feedback, and every poet in this community was invited to share and witness each other's creative work. We also explored copyright—because your words are precious, and they deserve protection.

Someone once said, “Who’s going to be you, if you’re someone else?”

I ask …

Who will pen your poems?

Capture your flow?

Cultivate, nurture, and salute the stories within?

Be a witness to the colors and canvas inside of you?

Whether you’re a curious new or experienced advanced poet and creative writer, my classroom is open to free, flourish, and celebrate the voice…your voice. You are welcome here!


Ready to take your voice from page to stage?

Jaz’s newest Poetry class runs six Mondays—September 14th to October 5th, 7 to 9 p.m. ET / 4 to 6 p.m. PT—and is open to writers at every level, from curious beginners to experienced poets looking to go deeper. Space is limited. Register at pwnwriters.org.

I am my friend amongst ink & paper

Social anxiety, what?

Originally published on Jaz’s Substack: Jaz. Bloom in the Struggle.

Jun 08, 2026

I find it funny how some folks emphatically deny the social anxiety I deal with and the brain wiring that is my introversion. See, I am not claiming social anxiety as something that shackles me anymore and at the same time I am embracing this brain that is fearfully & wonderfully made.

They say “Girlfriend it’s NO way that you’re like this because you’re a starburst on that mic…on that stage! And that I am (if I do say so myself lol).

But seriously, social anxiety did scar across my existence as far back as I can remember and I used to think that being introverted was a disease. Both rose as big, black, bullying shadows over my life until I feared something was intrinsically broke within me.

Strange, because I love people and community and comradery and connection. (We were definitely made by Love & for love). And the only times the scary social anxiety monster didn’t clobber me over the head and rake me by my heels is when I was on dance floors for hours in a sea of bodies, oblivious to shadows, merging into the music.

Another time is when…on my birthday…I found myself amongst my formidable and most fabulous friends…THE BOOKS!

I can’t deny my attraction to a bookstore…a library…a reading cove. It is soooo lovely & alluring! I was in love with reading before I ever wrote one poem or one song lyric. To say I got lost in books is in understatement. I was entrenched. I was embedded. I was encased. I was enthralled, captured, and obsessed.

Ink & paper had an ironclad hold on me and nurtured my resplendent imaginations.

An introvert is mostly always in their heads and so there…in my head… I set up shop, lived, and forever flourished in the stories that spilled from the books. They filled up my nooks & crannies to overflow. I didn’t know where I began and where the story ended (and vice versa).

Now back to my birthday. For this special day every year I decide to wear bravery and boldness as skin and plant myself right in the middle of a crowd. This crowd is full of ostentatious, modest, theatrical, inscrutable, bombastic, pastoral, turbulent, and unbothered peeps. Why, pray tell would I do this? Can you guess where I be?

Barnes & Noble, Borders, and all the precious little book coves!

This is where the living is. This connects me to the breath and heartbeat that is mine. This mirrors my childhood when I rode firestorms and sang symphonies into the winds.

Amongst the pages I became my own friend. For it didn’t matter eyeballs burrowing into the back of my head or shiftiness coming into my space or wafts of strange fellows trynna look into my soul. Wasn’t stressed by insipid small talk, sudden spotlights, and socializations. No it didn’t matter the ones who walked past a million empty curved and curled garden stools to dang near plop on my hip. I was not fazed by a stare that lingered too long (this time, I stared back) and I didn’t flee my own shadow.

I was fully present.

Amongst thickets, thorns and thistles...I bloomed.

Unapologetic. Without permission.

Social anxiety, what?


There is no guesswork

how and why words found themselves

emanating and exhaling through my pen.

How metaphors and sonnets and sonku and ekphrasis and enjambment and onomatopoeia became my constant, euphonious, kaleidoscopic, and incalculable companions

I am a lover of language

A wordsmith

unearthing her bones

Poetry is my DNA

Creative writing is my tongue

I am my friend amongst ink & paper

and

I

will

remember

me.

Artists interview with Jaz:

Originally published in The Pitkin Interviews

April 2022

Jaz (aka Pamela Kareen Banks) is an Award-winning Published Poet, Singer, Author, Performance Poet, Actress, and ASCAP Member-Songwriter from Philadelphia, PA. She holds a BA in Theater from Temple University. Her poems are featured in multiple anthologies, literary magazines, and on the internet, podcasts, and public radio. Jaz’s most recent publication was in the Moonstone Press Anthology “International Women’s Day 2022.” Jaz performs songs and poetry at open mics and featured performances as a soloist, and as a member of For Women Collective: an international performance ensemble created to honor the legacy of Nina Simone and as a member of Philly Jawns. She loves nature, karaoke, French fries, and the Big Cats! She is inspired by storms and sunshine. Jaz is a vessel of Christ for ministry, whether on or off the stage. 


Alaina: Hi, Jaz. So you had three poems published in the latest edition of The Pitkin Review (Resonant Fractals, Spring 2022) – first, Congratulations! It’s quite an accomplishment. Being on the final selection team for the last edition myself, I can say your work really spoke to people, opened their eyes – so thank you for sharing it with us. Can you tell us a little about one or two of your published poems? What was the inspiration behind them? What is a message you want your readers to take away? For those who weren’t able to get a copy of the journal, Jaz’s poems are: “I KNOW NOTHING (For Sylvia Plath),” “HISTORY (For Dr. Alena Maze),” and “ROOTED.” 


Jaz: Thank you Alaina for the congrats, your time and consideration to my work and your kind/reflective words regarding my poems in the Pitkin Review! The inspiration behind “I KNOW NOTHING (For Sylvia Plath)” is Plath herself. Long before I was introduced to her work, some of my poems had been compared to Plath’s by one of my poetry mentors. I finally read her work in my G1 semester and it wrecked me! Her words spoke deeply to me because I know about suffering and the dark thoughts that can accompany that. I don’t think/feel that Plath knew her own allure and power. I’m not sure she knew her worth. I wanted to tell her that she did live and she took up space and made a difference…her heartbeat mattered and made an imprint on this world and in this poet. I always say Plath changed the rhythm of my writing because I’d never ventured into being in such direct conversation with a poet (living or deceased) through my poetry before. I wish I would’ve met her. I wanted my words to be literal hugs for her beautiful tormented soul.

A main message that I want my readers to take away is that they are not alone in life’s torrents of pain that can threaten to overtake and destroy. A lot of my poems exhort and minister peace, healing, love, joy, musicality and wholeness. I love the scripture Isaiah 54:17(NIV) “No weapon forged against you will prevail…” In Christ, the pain of living this life may come, but it’s not going to take you out…it’s not going to prosper over you! I love to encourage the world with hope through my work. My poetry is testimony. 


Alaina: Your work seems to hold a significant element of social activism. In your poem “HISTORY (For Dr. Alena Maze)” you write, “Dr. Maze/ You are that history/ that the world does not want to acknowledge/ Are you in Guinness??/ Because I googled to see/ how many times your name was captured in/ Black & white newsies, articles, & bylines…/ >>crickets<<” This is such a powerful excerpt – poem. It speaks to the notion of histories being ignored, unrecognized; particularly the histories of women and people of color. Is social advocacy an important aspect of your work? Exposing injustices, ensuring that histories aren’t completely erased… Is evoking change something you aim to accomplish in your writing?


Jaz: Thank you. Yes I write alot for my people. It is my divine calling to as you say, expose injustices; uphold and honor African American history. But I also write for those whose voices have been ripped out of their throats and silenced. I advocate for those who don’t yet know about their light. For those who feel a part of the sidewalk they’re living on. For those whose land and people have been pillaged and desecrated. I use my pen and the creative word as change-agents. English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton said it best “The pen is mightier than the sword.” [Richelieu; Or the Conspiracy: A Play in Five Acts (second ed.). London. 1839]


Alaina: Such a beautiful sentiment; thank you for being so candid and open with us. In addition to being published in the last edition of The Pitkin Review, you also held the staff position of Copy Editor. Can you tell us about your experience working with the journal? Have you worked with literary journals in the past? What’s your favorite thing about The Pitkin Review?


Jaz: I am tickled and joyous to be working as a Copy Editor with The Pitkin Review! This is my genesis and it’s been such a pleasure and beautiful surprise. I say surprise because I thought the task would be taxing and time-consuming but it definitely hasn’t been. I think it helps that there are two Copy Editors and we can complete the assignments cohesively. I love the experience of seeing the nuts and bolts behind the scenes of what it takes to produce a literary magazine. I’m ever on the outside as the poet eternally submitting work for publication lol. It’s amazing to now see and experience it from both angles. My favorite thing about The Pitkin Review is it’s taking a chance on and welcoming writers who are still in a space and practice of learning their craft. I think that is special, inspirational and honorable. Additionally, because as a copy editor I get to stand in the belly of creation and be a witness to the birth of my classmates written works of art! What a wonder to behold.


Alaina: Can you tell us a little bit about your working thesis? The title? Where you’re at in the process? Anything you’re comfortable sharing. Maybe share a line or two (or ten).


Jaz: What a delightful question! Yes, I feel comfortable in sharing my working thesis title “From Beneath The Indigo.” I’ll tell you a little bit in that my thesis involves honoring the heart of and exhorting humanity. I’m writing for the world. It’s a big pill, I know. But it’s my life’s work and everything I’ve lived and experienced has led up to this. The basic human need is to be seen, to feel that you’ve been heard and that you’re loved, unconditionally. This is the heartbeat of this work. Here’s four pieces I’ll share. You’ll more than likely find them in my thesis 🙂


Alaina: Thank you for sharing! And thanks so much for your time, Jaz. I look forward to reading your thesis when it’s completed (and hopefully published soon after). We hope to see your work again in an upcoming journal (or two)! 


Jaz: Thank you kindly for having me Alaina! Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always loved the prospect of being interviewed. Maybe it’s the actress part of me? Nah lol. I’m actually an introvert and normally let my work be my voice. But it’s nice to come out of my comfort zone and share on a deeper level. I too pray that my work will find its home again in The Pitkin Review.