
Poetry: Echelons of Autism
Poetry about the levels of autism and where one autistic woman falls in that hierarchy of support needs.

Poetry about the levels of autism and where one autistic woman falls in that hierarchy of support needs.

I feel your pain— not in sympathy, but in symphony.

I’m a punk. I’m a rebel. I think one of the most badass things you can do is fight the system, and the biggest system there is is the culture of division and the human nature of defensiveness.

Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom? Who has all the answers, who can say what life means? Worst of all, how do you know?

I can’t tell them it’s all right, but I can be with them. I am still strong, and I will never forget the green, and the wind from the high places. —This is when I am—

Sam Stein interviews Rees Finlay about his upcoming graphic novella in which he outlines the process of coming to terms with his autism diagnosis. Hilarious, relatable, real.


You’d think the world were ending. With how null-coloured cracks rack the sky. And razor winds shred the upside down sea overhead, Into shards of

The knowledge of being autistic and engaging with the autistic community has restored my faith in my intuition. This poem describes the dialogue I wish to have with those who advise me against my intuition.

Too bold and too brazen, set sunlit clouds of envious hues They form and dither without recollect of heart’s healing