My name is Jordan Kit and these are my words.

Pick up a copy of my collection of poetry and short stories, Ignoring the Mistakes

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Fixed the link to my new chapbook!

My chapbook, “Summer on the Water”, is out and available for free!
All designed and conceived over the course of about 24 hours.

Read it HERE 

"Summer on the Water"

The chapbook is finished!

Over the course of 24 hours, I designed and composed a chapbook with 15 pieces that I’m very happy with.

You can find it here for free so please give it a look, pass it on, print it out, set it on fire—whatever you want to do!

This was a fun project and putting a little pressure on myself to get work done had some nice results.


Sailing west at sunset

When you look to your right impossible lavender and jack-o-lantern skies that slouch to distant foreboding night hues of purple meet windswept water that is glass at the horizon and reflective free flowing cellophane just off the bow.

When you look to your left traffic lights wink their dutiful blinks and looming banker’s buildings glow their tops forming a sparse but definitive blue collar Cleveland skyline.

As I watch the Burke Lakefront Airport runway, I dream up a haiku—a true one. 

           A plane takes off
          the people point
              and say, “Ahh!”

The sun sets and we sail ever into the deepening eggplant purple sky, and folks stumble about with the heave and sway of a breezy July night. I sit watching, thinking, readying the lines.


What is night to a sailor?

Night is the inevitable inky blackness that not only does, but must follow brilliant sunsets the landlorn world has never seen—and the most brilliant colors in a sunset aren’t the jack-o-lantern oranges or end of the world reds, but the softest most perfect teals and lavenders speckling the water heading toward the horizon.

Night is the quickening of the senses as vision wanes and danger looms ever more intently, even as the body drags and creaks from a long day of work—eyes always scanning the putrid somber dark for the welcoming revolving spotlight of a harbor’s light house.

Night is the easiest thing, it just happens, gradually from the moment the vessel is underway, and arrives and surrounds and welcomes without fail—bringing its own beauty, but demarcating an end to those who are content to go willingly into its breast, even as sailors gnash teeth and heave strong before the darkness.

What is night to a sailor?