About

Jessica Lee McMillan is a poet with an MA in English. When not writing or teaching, she spends time with her little family and buries herself in books and records. 

Jessica's work explores perception, existential concerns, pop culture, music, social justice, nature, water, physics, scale, the word & body, and mental & physical peripheries.

You can find her work presently/forthcoming in Pocket LintGoat's Milk MagazineTiny Spoon, Blank Spaces Magazine, Pinhole Poetry, Riddled with ArrowsAntilangDream Pop Journal, Willows Wept Review, The South Shore Review, SORTES, Train Poetry Journal, Lover's Eye Press, Red Alder Review and others. 

Jessica is a white settler and first-generation Canadian who lives in New Westminster, British Columbia on stolen and unsurrendered lands of the Coast Salish and Halkomelem-speaking Peoples, in particular, the QayQayt and Kwikwetlem First Nations.

JL McMIllan Headshot_edited.jpg
 
Search

The Meteorite

Our room grew a hole when the sky landed by our heads and, when meteorite met bed of linen taut with our stereotypical tensions, the...

Baby Teeth

Autumn is the season of falling leaves childhood is a season of losing teeth The loss of the first incisors starts at the dissolving of...

Whiplash

The pavement was dry, February grey —enough traction for the drunk to correct his advance left In physio, I took care of the whiplash but...

Commonwealth of Life

Free Verse “But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein Splintered from commonwealth of life we...

Reflections on Glass

Free verse How the cerebellum spills over the shiny panes reflecting the sky, the world in freehand sketching transparent refractions of...

The Dark Crystal and the Uncanny

What Henson's psychological universe teaches us Master world-maker Jim Henson defined my childhood with alphabet letters taught by...

Crow and Bridge

Locking eyes with a perched crow is a transference of bird’s-eye-view, the binocular reconciling of separate frames in one image, side...

The Body Is a Blackout Poem

Bandaids are my tales of chaos on playgrounds, the dermal terrain of nicks and scratches donned in battle with objects I collide, a...

Sky Panes

The bridge tower vaults and church spire hangs under the day moon conversing on altitude with steel-boned views bridge cables and cross...

Before Your Eyes

The pupils are ghost containment units even the sun cannot see oxygen eaten up by smoke or love evaporate into thin air. Disappearance is...

Lemonade Day

When I passed the lemonade stand, I passed my childhood, late August on the sidewalk, next to the church with humble interior walls,...

Forensics

Hands in motion smudge surfaces unforgiving of polish We groove and light life’s glass of shifting images with our living fingerprints...

Surf’s Up: An Alternative Music History

An alternative and prosaic look at the evolution of surf music and its resistance to generic rules from mid-century to present. This long re

Accidental Sunflower

Somehow a patch of sunflowers bloomed from the street corner — a concrete wedge of dog waste baggies, trash from the cannabis shop and...

Reclaim

Tendrils reclaim a wall of their own, sun beggars up the chain link locking small climates of beauty in frame. The meadow pops up in...

God’s Eye

Our lines connecting points of light orchestrate a puppetry of constellations chalking our wish trajectories in the sky Our hopes are a...

ROYGBIV

Memory is a basement carpeted in orange and brown, electronics warm, vinyl cords in rainbow of 7 colours 7 notes in analog polyphony...

The Business of Living

Becoming a robot is trading out each rogue bleeding heart, until it is mechanized with valves and fittings too tight for art or for...

Anatomy of a Funeral

Standard-issue funeral option tombstones are concrete slabs like ashes in a cardboard box, aggregate mixtures of concrete sprawl, a...

Compass Our Awe

Free verse Why do we share our art but for the company of like minds through words that compass our awe, unlock human glimpses, calloused...

1
2