V. E. Galyrae

01/31/2026

Spring Vampire

Desolate life buried and lost,
a living co**se moving through night,
feeding on the surrounding darkness
of February’s nebulous hysteria.

Emerging from the season’s shadows,
where I stabbed myself over and over,
threading the self-indulgent stitch-work
of winter's lacerating boredom.

Awake, to an unknown calling before dawn,
trying to remember the form of what
I had not realized was forgotten,
perchance to save it from a spreading decay.

Like the desperate self-consumption of a lonely candle
silently flickering beneath the burial stone,
I live as if the light has always been a stranger—
as if the light was something I never knew before.

At sunrise I found my soul
discarded upon the earth,
an inanimate bird, maimed wings,
drowned by the rushing fire of the horizon.
Sweet, grounded fledgling, bulbous infections,
abscesses, poxed with red-skinned eruptions.

The retreating winds of winter
pass over its stilled body,
how strange it is, that even in death
lifeless feathers try to take flight—
as if the light could pierce
this deep shadow that surrounds you—
as if the light could carry you above.

Lifting your frail shell from beside the iron railway,
wings spread loosely against my fingers,
helpless to death's permanent fall,
yet still pulled by that brief upward motion,
still attempting to ascend, longing to dance
upon the call of a turning sky,
to spill yourself, effortlessly,
beyond the edge of the world—
as if the light could blind my eyes
from seeing this truth I now hold—
as if the light could touch me here.

Choking back a growing vacuity,
I feel the pale tightness of clotting skin,
insides curdling, coagulating, imploding— disappearing.
A longing for life draws slow tears from my eyes,
“I still feel you, flightless bird!
What have I done with the wings you gave me?”

I stand, a spring vampire,
unburnt in the morning sunlight,
crying for the memory of my soul—
as if the light could touch
what the darkness works to hide—
as if I could carry the light within me.

“Spring Vampire” by V. E. Galyrae; A Strange Blue Gravity (2024).

Photograph by Aaron Conklin. July 31, 2018; Lake Buteo, K**b Noster State Park, K**b Noster, Missouri, USA.

Somewhere amidst the wide electric wilds rest a couple of small constellations made of my poems. If you feel like gazing a bit, you might find them.

Romancing the Void by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

12/18/2025

Don’t Say the “L-word”

It’s a moment in a crowded room
when your eyes fall upon a single person,
laughing, chatting, moving faster than
the rest of the party, yet her movements
are smooth and fluid, slowly
registering in your mind.

It’s a poem spoken in conversation,
that ends in silence, but continues
separately as each person
thinks of what to say next.

It’s a smile, an agreement to meet up
with friends, but secretly going
to see one person.

It’s a feeling that something great
is on the verge of coming to life,
confidence that you’re making the right choice.

It’s the majority of your time
recalling your last conversations,
replaying better things you could have said,
second-guessing the intentions
behind her responses.

It’s a walk to the lake,
barely wearing summer clothes,
noticing the intricacies of exposed skin,
swimming in the setting sun’s light.

It’s a kiss on the hillside,
a desire to give magic to this moment,
together, that it might transcend
all we have ever felt alone.

It’s a promise, a shared home,
a second pillow on her bed,
the hidden rituals of her privacy,
simply witnessing her living.

It’s a ring around a dream,
to see within to the child that grew
into the person as you know her,
it’s the child you were,
wanting to be known by her.

It’s the ceremony, the dance,
the night we were supposed to feel different,
the intertwining of families, hopes, futures.

It’s the beginning of real things,
homes and dining room tables,
rooms envisioned with intention,
a purity sanctified in wishes,
still new, still waiting to be known.

It’s a heavy winter storm shutting
down the town, snowed in at the house,
together, husband and wife
with the intent to conceive.

Its children, it’s changes, it’s growing together
through all the unexpected parts
of what we thought we would do.

It’s the pain, the hurt that causes
us to recoil, to pull away, yet keeps
us believing, keeps us willing to try again.

It’s the shared time, the meaning
assigned to the chapters of our lives,
It's the way I celebrate you.

“Dont Say the L-Word," by V. E. Galyrae; A Strange Blue Gravity (2024).

Photograph by Aaron Conklin. August 6, 2025

A few modest collections of my poetry are quietly stashed away in that sprawling digital bazaar named after the world’s largest tropical rainforest. You might stumble across them if you're feeling curious.

Romancing the Void by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

11/15/2025

"I must go back to the winds that blow across
distant fields, call their names in a tongue that
proceeds my own voice, until the air becomes
my breath again. I must return to the river,
where the beginning and ending converge,
where each clap and roil of water becomes
the great voice of the world."

Excerpt from “The Lonely Nomenclator” by V. E. Galyrae; A Strange Blue Gravity (2024).

Photograph by Aaron Conklin. November 10, 2025

A few modest collections of my poetry are quietly stashed away in that sprawling digital bazaar named after the world’s largest tropical rainforest. You might stumble across them if you're feeling curious.

Romancing the Void by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

08/27/2025

I created this video during COVID, when our local community open mic went digital to respect social distancing measures. At the time, I remember feeling a lot of trepidation about this video, about how I spoke, read, and looked. Talking to the camera, seeing myself on screen, even thinking that my writings and thoughts have significance outside my own perspective feels pretentious. But, five years later, I can see I did better than I realized. I managed to tap into a meaningful, poetic, and philosophical conversation with myself.

My life has changed so much since then, my marriage has disintegrated into coparenting and the poetry carries new layers of context for me now. I also self-published a second book of poems in 2024. Still, as of right now, I feel contentment towards this little segment I created. I'll reevaluate again in another 5 years, hopefully. 😅

In it, I share four poems from "Romancing the Void," along with some of the inspirations behind them. As an introduction to the final poem, I also offer my own retelling of the tragic myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

(Note: the auto-focus malfunctions briefly during the second poem only.)

A few humble collections of my poetry are nestled quietly in that vast digital realm that shares its name with a legendary tribe of mythical warrior women. If you're feeling adventurous, you just might discover them.

Romancing the Void by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

⏱️ Timestamps:
1:43 — For All of Our Lonely Patterns
4:43 — The Ingredients of Us
7:33 — Anhedonia
11:58 — Retelling of the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice
15:47 — The Light that was Eurydice

V. E. Galyrae reads 4 poems from his book "Romancing the Void," offering details behind the inspiration in each poem. As an introduction to his final poem, G...

08/07/2025

“All things are temporary phases,
clouds of water constantly shifting form,
surrendering saturation to wash down
withering mountainsides until each
molecule finds the river again.

All of existence consists of cycles
within larger cycles, spiraling continuously.
Yet despite these known patterns,
our recognition remains elusive.
It isn’t until standing in the rising waters
that our notion of drowning finally occurs.”

Excerpt from “Hydrology” by V. E. Galyrae; A Strange Blue Gravity (2024).

“Morning Light on the Caribbean” photograph by Aaron Conklin. July 9, 2024; Cahuita, Costa Rica

A few humble collections of my poetry are nestled quietly in that vast digital realm that shares its name with a legendary tribe of mythical warrior women. If you're feeling adventurous, you just might discover them.

Romancing the Void by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

08/01/2025

This is the open call for writers, composers, storytellers, memoirists, playwrights, singer/songwriters, and comedians to enroll for a performance slot in the upcoming Old Drum Open Mic. The program will take place in downtown Warrensburg at Java Junction (118 N Holden Street), from 6:00 p.m. until 8:00 p.m. on Thursday, August 7, 2025.

Poems, stories, comic sketches, memoirs, and songs are usually represented in the monthly program but play scripts and original music are also welcomed. Performance slots are up to 15 minutes, but most performers require only a fraction of that, allowing for more people to participate.

You can pre-schedule your appearance by personal messaging (PM) through this page. Please supply your name(s) and the title(s) of the pieces you would like to present.

Old Drum Open Mic is held the first Thursday of each month in Warrensburg. The series is in its tenth year of providing an outlet for the presentation of original works and performances and ODOM programs are free and open to the public.

(Photo Caption: July 3, 2025, Old Drum Open Mic)

07/18/2025

“Set your heart to dance with your doubts.
Love them like lost children
in a meadow where time stands still.

Do not seek to turn them away
no matter how needy or unpleasant
they persist in pulling you down to their level.

Love them. Cleanse them. Wash them
with the dew drops and tired rain from your face.”

Excerpt from “Aphelion” by V. E. Galyrae (2025).

Photograph by Aaron Conklin. August 4, 2010

A few modest collections of my poetry are quietly stashed away in that sprawling digital bazaar named after the world’s largest tropical rainforest. You might stumble across them if you're feeling curious.

Romancing the Void by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V.E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

06/08/2025

“What fallen grace will sit beside your window now?
Laughing at the wasteland of your library.
The salt has eaten through
the antiquities you hoped to preserve.

At last, shocked by the fact that
your own life has become a stranger to you,
the undercurrents you tread to keep your spirit buoyant
hold you like foreign anchors bound to a deeper darkness.

Crying for a horizon you’ve never seen before.
Lamenting a world you built without a sun.”

“The Weight of Sealed Things” by V. E. Galyare (2025).

“Sunset on the Saronic” photograph by Aaron Conklin. March 8, 2023

A few modest collections of my poetry are quietly stashed away in that sprawling digital bazaar named after the world’s largest tropical rainforest. You might stumble across them if you're feeling curious.

Romancing the Void by V. E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/dDsCqXj

A Strange Blue Gravity by V. E. Galyrae https://a.co/d/iKJGQLS

05/17/2025

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium, and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is ever pleased. No satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a q***r divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”

-Martha Graham

05/17/2025

Poetry Marathon 2025-Hour 1 Submission
https://community.thepoetrymarathon.com/u/46215008