Online Release Reading

Join the Paper Plane Pilots in releasing ¶: unspeakable poems by Sara Khayat. This poetry manuscript was published on March 3, 2016 by Paper Plane Pilot Publishing. Cover design and interior art by Laura Khayat. Edited by Laura Khayat.

It is an experimentation with s̶t̶r̶i̶k̶e̶t̶h̶r̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ and language (nouns that become verbs, verbs that become nouns in different contexts.)

This online reading will be streamed live. If you are unable to attend it will be automatically uploaded to our poetry channel, so you can view it at a later date. There will be a Q&A open to the audience. The reading will begin 9:00 PM PDT on Saturday May 7, 2016. Link to view live stream.

Here is our Facebook event page.


How often in life do we leave the things we most wish to say unspoken? Out of fear or shame, we greet our words with the callous axe of the censor; from the depths of the ego, the id writhes and calls out, desperate to be heard. In her latest manuscript, ¶: unspeakable poems, Sara Khayat uses strike through format to give voice to these unspoken things: things we should’ve said but didn’t, things we longed to say but couldn’t. Ambitious, rewarding, and dazzlingly composed, ¶: unspeakable poems is a work that should not go unread.

To purchase or view inside the book, follow the Amazon link:


r. miller
Brian Andrade
M. Alden
Wandering Savage
Gabby McCullough
Anthony Khayat (Ace Kingsly)
Dani Blue
Sara Khayat (holden lyric)

More pilots TBD


r. miller was presumably born in Baltimore, MD sometime in the late 1980’s, but the only evidence that supports this is the author’s word, and as we know, his word is rather… Dubious. While still a child, he and his family relocated to some bumfuck, sqauresville type of place in southern Pennsylvania where the townsfolk possessed zero fashion sense and were made fat by a steady diet of Utz potato chips, Snyder’s pretzels, and Big Macs from one of the hamlet’s three McDonald’s. The author fell under a sleep spell sometime after puberty, and when he finally awoke, he had found that he had graduated high school and enrolled in college. After deciding that playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band would be much more fun than sitting in a lecture hall, the author abandoned his academic pursuits and for the next several years, made records and toured a good portion of the country in a rickety van with his two best friends. As is too often the case, however, dreams die a horrible and undignified death. The band broke up, and the author spent the next two and a half years mired in a quarter life crisis, spending his days and nights holed up in his bedroom surrounded by empty bottles of Canadian whisky and every season of Dawson’s Creek on DVD. Following a mystical LSD experience that led him to question the foundation of language, the author decided to quit his bellyaching and to start writing poetry and this, dear readers, brings us to the present.


Brian Andrade is a writer, photographer, and a happy introvert. He is a native to Los Angeles, California and believes that the city has impacted his creative pursuits as well as his personal character. There’s nothing like an array of tall grey buildings stacked like dominoes and a loud boulevard of street walkers and winos to make Brian feel more at home. He is currently a university student who also writes for the school newspaper. In between the acts of everyday living, he listens to bands with shitty names. (Starfucker, Ghostland Observatory)

Brian also hates long walks on the beach, bendy-straws, and furniture stores.


M. Alden was almost named for the Brontë sisters, until her brother enthused that her nickname would be Brontësaurus, at which point her parents envisioned horrific scenes of playground torment. Instead they named her Amanda and called her Michaela, and dared to wonder why she was such a hellaciously disobedient child. Having given up biting and spitting at people by age 5, M. has learned to tame her feisty disposition with paper, a pen, and a nice glass of chocolate milk. Currently she studies French and Global Studies in Austin, Texas. Her career aspirations are as ambiguous as her nomenclature, but she loves to love, and so far that is what’s mattered the most.


He was born in a shoe but not a little old lady one, a fucking gross Nike sneaker: one floating in a sewer. Wandering Savage attended an art school where his teacher—ass paint McGee—literally shits on the artistic institution by shooting paint out of his ass. Savage has graduated with degrees in chronic masturbation and literary nonsense also known as film. He gives no importance to things his friends care about and spends copious and concerning amounts of time in a mutually abusive relationship with his decrepit demon cat.


Gabby McCullough was born of scrawled ink blotched onto a paper, pieced together by inane scribblings and word doodles. Enchanted with the idea of entrapping emotions into meaningful squiggles, she employs written word as a refuge, penning pain neatly into discrete units which, once united, ultimately explicate. McCullough is fascinated by the role of the writer, unable to decide whether phrases are created and conjured by a writer, or whether a scribe is merely a conduit of predestined vocals waiting in the shadows to be birthed in scripted speech, never abandoning the possibility that the truth lies in a tumultuous marriage between the two. Her favorite pairing of words is the bittersweet utterance “asinine invocation,” which she believes encapsulates the miserable hope which propagates the human condition.


Ace Kingsly started writing in the fourth grade when he turned in a page-and-a-half for a two-sentence assignment. His teacher yelled at him, and he promptly gave up the dream until college, when a paper on procrastination made his classmates laugh. When he discovered he had the power to make people like him this way, he took to writing as a hobby for what is probably the unhealthiest reason possible.


You don’t always meet Dani Blue, but when you do, it’s awesome, so be prepared. You can ask those other guys and they’ll tell you the same. Her corny humor can be funny, but it’s not most of the time, ha. Besides that though, you can stick humble and passionate to Ms. Blue.


Sara Khayat was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. She is editor-in-chief of Paper Plane Pilot Publishing. She graduated from California State University, Northridge with a BA in English/Creative Writing and a minor in Psychology. Her mind is full of wildflowers, ladybugs and grey matters. Give her a shout and she’ll give you a whisper.


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