ABOUT

Woman in white blouse and dark vest sitting by window

Lindsey Royal Wayland is a poet, calligrapher, and researcher whose work captures the subtle beauty of everyday details. Wayland’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Southern Humanities Review, Bellevue Literary Review, swamp pink, Amsterdam Review, The Citron Review, The Haiku Society of America’s journal Frogpond, and Third Wednesday. A finalist for the 2024 New Letters Patricia Cleary Miller Poetry Prize and the 2024 Fugue Poetry Contest. Wayland is the recipient of the Washburn-Hayes merit scholarship, two Arts Commission grants, and a South Porch Artist Residency. Wayland’s debut poetry collection, We Who Carry Air, is forthcoming.

A longtime student of Zen Buddhism, the I Ching, and Taoism, she holds a BA in Poetry and Psychology, as well as a postgraduate scholarship in depth psychology and archetypal symbolism. Wayland also earned a Master of Fine Arts in Poetry from Pacific University.

Her newsletter, ALL DAY, is a living inquiry into everyday presence, poetic perception, and creative reflection, offering essays and writing that invite a deeper way of seeing and engaging with the world.

A native Texan, Wayland grew up in the hill country on seven acres through a rattlesnake path. She now lives with her husband and three children by the Salish Sea.

She often thinks about fruit trees.

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I am so happy this poem is out in the world now. Published by @amsterdam_review written in my thesis semester @pacificmfa and shared first with my best poetry friend @juliegshulman and is an essence of me and my poems and my upcoming class with @writ
Me, today, it was a sunny day and warm.
Origin stories from We Who Carry Air. Origin of a Mountain, the broadside is in my grandmother's room. But the rest of us can appreciate it like this. So grateful to @swamp_pink for giving this little poem (and another) a home in issue no. 18!
The best poems* come alive by paying attention *lives
Anyway, the little time I have when I'm not writing poems and making meals and hanging with my three beautiful children and husband, this is some of what I get into.
Dear Sunday: the art of nota bene I wrote my first Dear Sunday! lindseywayland.substack.com
"What did you do as a child that made the hours pass like minutes? Herein lies the key to your earthly pursuits." -CG Jung What filled your childhood? Me: I was always outside. I wrote poems in the woods, in the garden, on the trail. I li
Some things are countable.
Already this year I've captured the punctuation of uncountable letters, though one portrait in particular moved me from where I was before it to where I was after it, maybe that's what all of this is. Being moved. Changing from before something to af
In some dreams I have the strangest throat. 🏹🏷️🔦⏳🪃🪟🛝👽🙏🏼🦷🎒🗝️🫖📖🍑
🍑🍂🌅🍯🎨📻🕰🪵🪨⚖️🕯🎠
Mood
What do you know of listening? Who taught you to listen? Is the art of listening also a creative endeavor? Can one listen and not be heard? Monday musings and poems in my voice box, vibrating in air.
Using ears and mouth in proportion.
In a house, some lamps are house plants.
Woman lying on the floor reading a book, with papers, a pen, and glasses nearby, black and white photo.
Blurred silhouette of a woman reading a book by a window.
Black and white photo of a woman squatting near a river, holding a leaf, with trees in the background.
Black and white photo of a woman in a library, holding a book titled "Women" with open books on the floor.
Black and white photo of a woman reflected in a window with brick background.
Black and white portrait of a woman with chin-length hair, wearing a suit jacket, touching her hair.