Eden On The Edge

All Content Copyright, Natalie Taylor 2014, All Rights Reserved

Water Witch

Hey party peeps, I’ll be reading at the Water Witch this Monday night, followed by a riveting open mic.

Come join us for my two favorite things — poetry and wine  — and bring your own poems to share.


March 11, 2019

7 p.m.

163 W. 900 South

Salt Lake City, Utah 84101


Hubbub cover regular


Thrilled to have two poems included in this issue of Hubbub. Read the rest of this entry »

You don’t need shoes. You’re not that kind of man.

My mother was a fish. I worship moss

without words.

Your mother was a horse. You need to get

it done.


The bridge is out, the eye inquires. I don’t

advise it.

Will the horse and cart cross the river in

heavy rains?


When hoof meets scale, water froths like silver fish

in boiling

liquid and stallion grunts heavy against a

wild river,


growing wilder as it grows older. Stump collides

with flank.

What can breathe in water and what cannot.

What floats.


What sinks. What is lost in deeds and depth.

You lie

like a fish lies in silt natural as

a bed.








Published in Hubbub, Volume 33, 2019

Eightmile spring

Looking for wild horses in the west

desert, I found a spring instead.

Fresh water babble rising over menacing

desolation. The only sign of humans:

gnarled wire and the sagging fenceposts of an

abandoned pasture. Years ago,

my sisters and I saw a badger here.

Horned larks fuss as my dog lopes

through yellowed sage. Distant boom. Hunting season.

If my daughters answer at all, they say yes, no.

I told the man he had been careless with my heart.

He told me he thinks of me all the time.

It is not the same thing.

My thirst for solitude,

gorgeous despair and the vast emptiness

of blue, blue, blue, over browns.

Some small sound that I think

might be a hoof, the beginning of a herd —

a stone shifting under the roots of dried thistle.

Deep chill warmed by late October sun.

I eat hard-boiled eggs, salted and peppered,

wash them down with water.

I came here to see the musculature of untamed instinct:

a mare nuzzle a wobbly foal

a stallion herd the slowest straggler

a band of dun and bay, black and white.

I wanted, perhaps, the clamor of family.

Or some echo of it.

Natural order demonstrated

in feral whinnies. An understanding

that survival depended on staying together.

Instead, this strange trickle in the arid

landscape, the stubborn greening of watercress

amidst rusted pipes and bullet casings.







Published in Hubbub, Volume 33, 2019

Sing the vast pity of monsters



Feeling very fortunate to be included in this issue of Kettle Blue Review. Check it out if you are so inclined.



Podcast: Episode 10: Natalie Taylor and Paisley Rekdal at READ LOCAL

15 Bytes was kind enough to record the READ LOCAL reading with myself and Utah’s poet laureate Paisley Rekdal. This is what they had to say:

“Interesting things happen when you bring two writers together, which is why every quarter Artists of Utah, in conjunction with Salt Lake City Arts Council, brings two Utah writers together for a reading and discussion. On Thursday, January 25, READ LOCAL featured poets Natalie Taylor and Paisley Rekdal. Taylor won first place in the 2016 Utah Original Writing competition for Poetry and Rekdal, Utah’s Poet Laureate, was the winner of the 2017 15 Bytes Book Award for Poetry. The writers share an interest in mythology, especially the story of the Minotaur, and form — both read from ekphrastic works. Take a listen to their wonderful readings and the discussion that follows.”

READ LOCAL is presented in conjunction with Salt Lake City Arts Council and support from Utah Humanities.

You’ll find the podcast feed at: http://feeds.feedburner.com/ArtistsOfUtahs15Bytes

Taylor and Rekdal flyer

Literary Arts award ceremony

ceremony reading

Had a great time reading at the 2017 Utah Original Writing Competition at the Finch Lane Gallery. Congratulations to all the winners.

15 Bytes

Psyched to be in 15 Bytes today.



I’m working on a manuscript, Past the minotaur, a contemporary retelling of the Greek myth. In the myth, seven maidens and seven youths were lowered into a labyrinth as annual sacrifices to the minotaur. These persona poems are vignettes from the point of view of three of the children as they wait in the dark maze.

Yes. They are dark. Happy Sunday.

Read the rest of this entry »

Story Catcher Summer Writing Workshop & Festival

So excited to be part of the Story Catcher Summer Writing Workshop & Festival next month. If you need a dose of inspiration, join us June 14–17 in the Pine Ridge Region of Northwest Nebraska.

As a 2017 Mari Sandoz Emerging Writer, I’ll be leading a workshop at the festival on Saturday.

Get all the deets here: StoryCatcher17FinalProgramEmail.