iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 21/09/2026

Excited to have 4 poems in the new issue of PN Review and 2 poems in the new issue of New England Review! (I don't have my copies yet, so no screenshots at the moment.)

Text announcing New England Review number 47.3 is here, listing the contributors' names

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 02/03/2026

Truly thrilled to have these 2 new poems in the spring issue of Poetry London! Many thanks to editor Niall Campbell & all at Poetry London. Thanks also again to the brilliant artist Soheila Sokhanvari for her inspiration, & thinking of her at this time❤️❤️

Self-Portrait as Perpetuity

after a painting by Soheila Sokhanvari

Whatever time it is, the horses will drag you back
To the woods or the room where you’re sitting in an argyle sweater vest,
Dripping with possibilities. Someone is handing you a vase of lilies,

Someone arranges a gold snake around your neck. Click.
In the room the sofas are always square and unrelenting,
The carpet wet like tongues. You’re used to it. There’s a feeling

That could be called ‘perpetual snow globe’ or ‘a lasagne
Of one’s own’. You’re sitting with your arms folded across your chest
Like a vamp in a coffin, your hair wavy with emotion. What if

Everything that comes after this could still be reversed,
The woods and the vase and the basement where you didn’t get
Your first kiss. Click. To be alive and dead at the same time

Is like being in a poem. Someone is painting your nails blue
And dressing you in a cotton shift. You’re running through a house
Looking fetching while a guitar plays heavy riffs, doors flying open

Like concussions. There’s an infinite corridor and an attic
Full of bees. There’s a wood-panelled rec room and very distinct
Aromas. You’re panting like a Bernese mountain dog in a boiler suit

When you glimpse your face in the window, so much older.
You won’t get away with it. Your hopes crumple like a beer can
In the sinister mist. In the distance, something howls.

The Pretender

(NBC, 1996-2000)

You can’t help it if the saucepan of your envy sometimes bubbles over
Or if your life is like a pleather coat— sweaty and unfragrant.
It’s not your job to reveal the existence of a sinister institution
Or to be jarring and unplaceable, like a Belgian accent.

When was the fruit roll-up of your dreams first chomped on?
You know you weren’t like the other children.
Like a moustache, your bad luck is always with you.
Like pasta, it sticks together and sits in your tummy.

Playing Chinese checkers against a Pomeranian
With ‘special abilities’, or evading an armed goon
Are everyday activities for you. Think of the voice on an old
Recording. A long bob on a pretty girl.

Keep wheeling your regrets around like an oxygen tank;
Get to California and win a prize. The long road of your resentments
Ends here, Mr Nice Guy. You can hop off like a turkey
Into the petulant sunset, square and ungainly. Good times.

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 10/02/2026

Thrilled to have 2 new poems in the latest issue of The Kenyon Review! Many thanks to the editors & staff ❤️❤️

Self-Portrait as Proximity
after two paintings by Soheila Sokhanvari

It is 3.30 in the afternoon of my life. Things aren’t black and white any more,
The squares on the chequerboard lose their shape. The swirl of my dress
Is a coded message, like the wavy lines on an ECG. Prepare to be shocked.

I’m only willing to sign a false confession. When I look outside, the clouds
Are like bars. You can pull back the curtain and peek into someone’s life,
But beneath the window is always another window. Throw me a rope?

On the floor, tiled stars lead to an invisible cinema. The pattern
Of the leaves says how many years until I find true love. Ask again later.
Twirl around like a girl in an Italian movie, arms wide as hope.

I can sit polite as a cat in a living room, waiting for a meal. My arms
Have clean edges, fold in like a paper doll’s. Behind me the same garden
Repeated in a mirror, plastic flowers predicting that not much will grow.

Self-Portrait as Philosophy

after three paintings by Soheila Sokhanvari

The bagel of the afternoon is split down the middle— before
And after. Tapping and tapping my tortoiseshell nails,

Just killing time. My newspaper face crackles, unfolds.
You can lead a horse to water... It’s been a while

Since anyone stopped by this house painted blue and red like a toy
With the ghost of a movie star sitting in an armchair out back,

Hand-me-down. To be loved is like wearing candy-coloured bangles
With a perfectly matching outfit. To be unloved is a curse

Like when a witch dislikes your vibe. You can lead a horse
To a cobbler... I watch the joggers go by

In their sensible clothes. I watch the tomatoes next door
Getting bigger, like fruit-shaped embryos. What in the world

Is the world to an animal like a horse, amiably chewing
In a field? My feelings are overstuffed as an American sandwich

And the timer goes off like a dainty bell.

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 10/09/2025

Thanks to the Best American Poetry blog for reprinting my poem 'Self-Portrait as Psychology' as their Pick of the Week! (It originally appeared in the NYRB.) Thanks also to the wonderful artist Soheila Sokhanvari, whose paintings initially inspired it. blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/the_best_ame...

'Self-Portrait as Psychology'

*after two paintings by Soheila Sokhanvari*

The straps on my shoes make an X across my feet.
My eyes snap open and shut like a purse. *Plink plink*.

The way we depart from ourselves when the moon comes out.
The way a cat shows its claws when picked up and held.

If this is the slow kind of hell, I’m used to it—
My hands are folded the wrong way, the cat sits on the bed

Like a limpet, the sun drops out of the sky, inexorable
As a chandelier earring. I don’t believe in forgiveness

Or holding hands or the kind of people who keep treasured
Figurines. Sometimes the truth is impossible as a bodice

Spilling over with boobs, it just can’t be contained.
What do you have to do to get arrested around here?

The pictures on the wall look back with no pity. Sometimes
The truth is unpalatable as a stain. Even the cactus

Judges me from its corner, arms raised like it’s giving up.

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 09/09/2025

I had the pleasure of chatting with the brilliant Chris Lloyd on Episode 15 of his podcast, Books Up Close, which has just been released 🌷 We discussed poetry book recommendations, writing tips, & a poem of mine called 'This Morning,' 🌸 Check it out wherever you listen to podcasts! 🌺

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 06/08/2025

I'm teaching a Verve Poetry Zoom Workshop online this Tuesday, 12 August, 7-9pm UK time. It's called 'Pop Culture Poetics' & will focus on infusing poetry with pop culture (especially music, TV, & film). All are welcome! Link for details: www.eventbrite.com/e/jane-yeh-w...

A cute chihuahua (from We Rate Dogs iirc) running down a beige hallway sooo fast with its eyes bulging. It looks like it's smiling & it's running so fast its paws are blurry.

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Reposted by Jane Yeh

Andy Arthur💃🏰⚓🦌 Threadinburgh 🧵 @threadinburgh.scot · 16/07/2025

"The Potato Eight". 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 These "glamour girls" of the Potato Marketing Board toured British seaside resorts in summer 1939 to promote eating potatoes as a route to health and efficiency and "overturn old fashioned notions about the potato being taboo for the woman who wants to keep her figure" 🤸

newsprint photo. 8 young women are kneeling down and hold up signs that spell out "The Potato Eight", each is in a matching gymanstic outfit. Behind them is an art deco swimming pavilion.

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 18/05/2025

Thrilled to have a new poem in the New York Review of Books 🥰 With many thanks to editor Jana Prikryl (& to artist Soheila Sokhanvari for the initial inspiration!) 🌺 Also readable on the NYRB website (no paywall) ❤️ www.nybooks.com/articles/202...

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 26/02/2025

Big thanks to editor Maggie Millner & everyone at The Yale Review! 🥳

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 16/01/2025

What TV show will ever have the impact of Twin Peaks S1? RIP David Lynch ❤️❤️

Still of Agent Dale Cooper driving in his car while holding a voice recorder in one hand, subtitled, 'Diane, 11:30 a.m., February 24th. Entering the town of Twin Peaks.'

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 14/01/2025

Delighted to read this Monday, 20 Jan, at The Social in central London for Canon Fodder! An event series featuring poetry, live music, & brief open mic. I'll be reading with Susannah Dickey & Will Burns, with music from Mock Deer 🥳 All welcome, tickets at: www.tickettailor.com/events/canon...

Poster for this event featuring the info in the tweet

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Jane Yeh @janeyeh3.bsky.social · 16/12/2024

Thrilled to be reading on Thurs, 13 Feb, at the London Review Bookshop with Emily Berry, as support for Richard Scott's reading from his new collection! 🥰🥳🍸🥰 See for tickets: www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/richard-sc...

eventbrite.co.uk

Richard Scott, Emily Berry & Jane Yeh: That Broke Into Shining Crystals

To celebrate publication of That Broke into Shining Crystals, (Faber) Richard will be reading alongside fellow poets Emily Berry & Jane Yeh

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Reposted by Jane Yeh

Radley Balko @radleybalko.bsky.social · 16/11/2024

Trump is now < 50%, and leads Harris < 2%. This election was extremely close. That margin will have enormous consequences. But it’s small enough that instead of debating which vulnerable groups and standards of decency Dems should abandon, they could just focus on how to better defend both.

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