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Ariana D. Den Bleyker

Ariana D. Den Bleyker is a Pittsburgh native currently residing in Upstate New York, a wife, mother of two, a writer and an editor. When she's not editing or writing, she's spending time with her family and every once in a while sleeps.

She is the author of several poetry chapbooks and collections, including Wayward Lines (RAWArt Press, 2015), Strangest Sea (Porkbelly Press, 2015), Beautiful Wreckage (Flutter Press, 2015), and The Peace of Wild Things (Porkbelly Press, 2015),  the novelette, Finger : Knuckle : Palm and the experimental memoir, prosthesis.

Ariana is the founder and publisher of ELJ Publications, home of Emerge Literary Journal, scissors & spackle, Amethyst Arsenic and other fine journals.

She can be found at arianaddenbleyker.com.

Ariana's Origami microchaps & selected poems are available below. Click on the titles to download a printable PDF.

Origami Microchap

Selected Poem(s)


Cover: Photo of Sergio Bustamante
‘Face in Hands‘ Sculpture

To the Boy That Broke My Heart

It’s easy to imagine looking
one way through your eyes,
then looking out. You’ll smile
to see me, mouth open, a breath
sounding itself; my voice will
shake out its dread, a muffled
crack, and not much more.
Ariana D. Den Bleyker © 2015





Cover from www.etsy.com


The kitchen is draped in silence.
The walls bleed for us.
We bake, my mother and I,
watch the cookies rise up
like warm, soft bellies.
The room is hot
and the oven buzzes
with a thousand stings.

My mother, she turns to me:
I do not understand her expression.
My silence captures the smell of the past.
I am hungry again.
Ariana D. Den Bleyker © 2014


On Coming of Age



Cover: The web

I asked, “Why have I received only this.
A voice replied, “only ‘this’ will lead you to that.”
~ Rumi


On Coming of Age


I stood on the front porch, palms extended
to catch the drops. I ran down the steps,
splashed onto the street, caught more drops
in my mouth, my thin, floral sundress
clinging to my body, heavy braids weighing
down on my shoulders in the hot August
dampness—before I was old enough to shave
my legs, wear a bra, apply heavy black eye-
liner, before I knew how morning sex
                       could smell like a raging storm.
Ariana D. Den Bleyker © 2014