Shameless author selfie

For the majority of my adult life I've either attended or worked at a university ... or both. Continuing education and lifelong learning are my prime ambitions. Of course, educational opportunities are ubiquitous, but I'm one of those nerds (geeks? IDK) who responds well to a more formal setting. Here are samplings and snippets of a few of my pieces published in university journals ... which didn't have anything to do with my work or study there; I was just more aware of submission deadlines!

WSU's Mikrokosmos, Vol. 68

Sneak peeks/excerpts of three poems published in :

Mikrokosmos, Vol 68, 2022

The days of the calendar deceive: neat squares nestled

side by side, uniform, a perfect grid where everything ...


... Memory is a medium

a bit too viscous

for any vehicle ...

The table wobbles
Is the problem with the table,
the floor, or me? ...

—Julie Ann Baker Brin (excerpts)

Special thanks to Luke Ulatowski, Editor-in-Chief

More info:

sneak peek/excerpt (1st verse):

Of course there are technical difficulties. We expect
them all ways: crossed cables channeling the babble
of mysterious tongues, making eternal
feedback, static in the message. We lose
control, disconnect from the motherboard, cannot
fathom the volume of eleven dimensions. Then:

... (continued in the publication; purchasing info below) ...

—Julie Ann Baker Brin, as published in

Archaeopteryx: The Newman Journal of Ideas (Volume 2), 2014

To purchase this volume:

Special thanks to Dr. Bryan D. Dietrich, Editor

More info:

Archaeopteryx Vol. 2

ISBN-10 : 1495314995

ISBN-13 : 978-1495314995

NU's Sheridan Edwards Review, Vol. 17

we are

light waves, slowed down
fossils, sped up

somewhere between
the stars
and the skeletons

flashes, rays, sweeping beams
glass sponges, corals, sea-lily stems

ashes from wind and fire
mud from water and earth

the matter
caught up with
the energy

—Julie Ann Baker Brin
Winner, 2009 Sr. Madeleine Kisner Prize in Poetry, as published in
NU's Sheridan Edwards Review, Volume 17. Editor in-Chief: Aaron Sullivan; Poetry Editor: Rachelle Pohlman, Poetry Judge: Sonya Taaffe


These words I write with my whole
body, my whole machine.
Punctuating air on air,
daring such vast space.

I dizzy with the yaw of “S,”
and pitch of “H,” anticipating
acceleration of “O”—racetrack to
the rush and lift of “W.”

My old tin can fuselage on display;
its few brave passengers
gasp, clutching for walls.
Then straightaway we descend

to see my work. “Ooh,” we say,
admiring, then start to point
out mistakes: that splotch
in the “M” or the glitch in the “E;”

I should have let up on the stick.
But now we’re grounded, our risky
endeavor a dream of the clouds …
and it all just blows into blue.

—Julie Ann Baker Brin, poetry finalist (runner up), as published in NU's Sheridan Edwards Review, Vol. 18

NU's Sheridan Edwards Review, Vol. 18

(Cover art by Cat Connolly)

NU's Sheridan Edwards Review, Vol. 18

(back cover)


Could you please give me the book
of you—may I have it? I’ll buy it if I must.
Or borrow it? For just a day. Or maybe three.

So fairly bound, as Juliet would sigh,
though I know it contains no vile matters.
Oh that I would rip out my own pages

just to read your story. But here are my volumes,
cracking in the binding, slumping on the shelf,
cloth-covers molding, dust jackets torn.

I am just so, so very tired of this
dust-coated library, the negligence
of assistants, and that aging checkout clerk.

—Julie Ann Baker Brin, poetry finalist (runner up), as published in NU's Sheridan Edwards Review, Vol. 18


I love how he signs
his name on the little notes
he leaves me at home.

Like I don’t know who
wrote them. Giant
Sharpie marker on a 3x3
Post-It®, he fills
a whole page for my sanity.

“Went fishing with the guys,” or
“Had to go back to work L,” and always,
always, “Dogs R fed!”—the most
important tidbit. Besides
“Love,” of course.

Julie Ann Baker Brin, poetry finalist, as published in
Newman University's Coelacanth, Vol. 1

NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 1

Editor-in-Chief: Annie Lessard

NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 1

(back cover) ISBN: 9781475009682


My body probably shouldn’t be
left alone when my brain thinks
about itself; new things must be
happening in the universe
when it does:

fractals swallow fractals,
mirrors reflect mirrors,
explosions, explosions, explosions.

How strong is the human
skull? It’s impossible, fragile:

just a curtain
over a window
in a summer breeze.

Julie Ann Baker Brin, poetry finalist, as published in
Newman University's Coelacanth, Vol. 1. To purchase:


When we laugh we sound
like chimps but pretend
we don’t. We charade as
if we’re not complete

animals, tucking our tails
into business-casual attire,
chiding ourselves into seizing
entire days, when there are
only moments. We have

these civilized meetings around
tables, while fantasizing of
being uncivilized under
them, or on them. We grind

our monkey teeth and smile
our gorilla smiles, getting all
excited about synchronizing
clocks, claiming to understand

Julie Ann Baker Brin, poetry finalist, as published in
Newman University's Coelacanth, Vol. 3

NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 3

General Editor: Jerry Jones, Jr.

NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 3

(back cover) ISBN: 9781497357310


You only knew
a mosaic of me;
design broken into

jagged pieces that
you arranged; a bit
of brightness hidden here

and there, held together
by chemical force; and excess
glass left for scrap.

Julie Ann Baker Brin,
poetry finalist, as published in
Newman University's
Coelacanth, Vol. 3


Sometimes souls are sticky.
You have to scrape them
off with a metal spatula.
Or soak them in the sink
overnight—which, of course,
your housemate hates.

Sometimes souls are fleeting.
You have to retrofit them
with a GPS transponder. Or,
if you get advanced notice,
at least find out their
forwarding address.

Sometimes souls are absent.
You have to conjure them up
with bits of string and
paperclips, MacGyver-style,
or scribble them onto napkins
and carry them in your raincoat.

Sometimes souls are solemn.
You have to invite them out
to a comedy club. Or shut
them between the pages
of a bathroom humor book
until they finally get it.

—Julie Brin, as published in NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 5

NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 5 (front cover)

Editor-in-Chief: John Denny

NU's Coelacanth, Vol. 5

(back cover) ISBN: 9781530702879

I say to you, flower

I've seen your sex organs
under a microscope
I know your pollen well,
blurt-flirting about;
so huge like spikes and voodoo
armadillos at a convention,
scattering to get to that
other part of you

I've seen how you shake it all,
waving those tentacles to gather
bees, bats, birds
whatever satisfies
I know your family and
your chemicals and everything
that makes you work.

But I couldn't guess
what you are saying to me

—Julie Ann Baker (Brin)
As published in KU's Kiosk, Vol. 13
(at least a gazillion years ago)

KU's Kiosk, Vol. 13

There are more where those came from, but these are probably enough for now. If anyone besides my Mom is reading this and you disagree, feel free to send a note which is highly likely to get lost in my inbox to juliebrin at gmail dot com. (It is more likely to get found if it is accompanied by a "pay a friend" transaction from your bank. I mean, formal education is expensive. Insert winky emoji here.)

See the page menu at the top for more. And thanks for visiting my portfolio site! —Julie Ann Baker Brin