Our very own Editor-in-Chief, Jhazzy Jhane, is back with her third poetry collection, infinite ways to burn, which dropped May 4, 2025. I had the honour of reading it early, and it’s nothing short of powerful, raw, lyrical, and deeply human. I’ve linked her previous work below—make time for it. She’s got something to say, and you’ll want to hear it.
Jhane’s infinite ways to burn isn’t just a collection of poetry, it's a scorched map of love, loss, memory, and survival. Every page feels like skin meeting flame, blistering with pain, healing with grace, and smoking with a quiet, dignified rage. It’s about the fire that chars, the fire that warms, and the fire a woman walks through and emerges from—stronger, more unfiltered, unrepentantly herself.
This book feels like sitting at a kitchen table with a woman who has seen too much and still dares to sing. It’s Las Vegas heat turned into metaphor, as in “tempting fate”:
“it seldom rains. the city could set itself on fire. i’ve watched it try...
sometimes, i wish to burn with it.”
That’s not just a line—it’s a punch to the chest. Vegas isn’t just a place here, it’s a character. Home and exile. Origin and wound.
There’s a relentless honesty in poems like “black and blue” and “rage,” which tackle domestic violence with devastating precision:
“he wore a mask so convincing / you believed every fib he whispered in
your ear” - “black and blue”
“my face was your canvas / my keys were your paintbrush” - “rage”
These aren’t just stories, they’re confessions soaked in blood, memory, and sorrow. There’s no euphemism, no artistic sidestep. Just truth, standing naked and bruised. These poems reminded me of Warsan Shire’s piercing lyricism or Sylvia Plath’s confessional burn.
What stunned me most was the duality, how love is both tender and treacherous. In “burning”:
“i am a candle burning for you / though you are not here / to appreciate my. fragrance / because you love another”
And then there’s the haunting vulnerability of “a closer look”:
“underneath, i’m a pile of filthy wreckage / you’ll wish you’d never touched.”
The ache of being known-truly known-and fearing it’ll drive people away. That’s not just poetry, that’s therapy inked on paper.
But this isn’t a book that leaves you in despair. There’s a gritty kind of healing here, too. The final pieces, especially “into the fire” and “this is me”, are reclamations. They strip off shame, rebuild dignity, and plant a flag: “I survived. And I remember.”
“i toss the version of her / who crawls on all fours / for crumbs of love… / oh, darling, / you won’t be missed, / but you will be mourned.”
If you’ve ever loved someone who didn’t love you back, stayed too long in a burning room, or tried to find your reflection in someone else’s eyes, this book will see you. It’ll hurt, but it’ll also remind you that you are not alone in the fire. And like Jhane, you can and will walk through it.
infinite ways to burn is a mirror, an inferno, a diary soaked in tears and gasoline. Read it slowly. Read it when you’re ready. Then read it again when you’ve begun to heal.
Buy infinite ways to burn: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DYJDY2SH
All other links: https://linktr.ee/jj1998
