The Weightless One by Anais Chartschenko


Today, I have the pleasure of introducing a long time friend, gamer, poet, and musician, Anais Chartschenko. Anais has an exceptional voice and frequently impresses me with her ability to express it in a variety of art forms. Please take a moment to check out her works below, including excerpts.

anaishoodAnaïs Chartschenko hails from the Canadian wilderness. She has come to enjoy such modern things as electric tea kettles. Her published works include two collections of poetry, Bright Needles and The Whisper Collector as well as a novel in verse, The Weightless One.







Amazon Page


theweightlessonecoverBuy The Weightless One

My review:

If you can expect anything from Chartschenko’s poetry, it would be her works have a realistic grit that will leave you breathless after the last page is turned. This is a book that should be given to any parent, clinician, or individual who has been touched by residential treatment. I promise you will continue to flip through this treasure for a long time.

Buy The Whisper Collector

My review: 

The Whisper Collector is RAW; and you WILL find yourself tremoring at the end of many of these completed masterpieces. Years have come and gone since I have read poetry capable of clearly painting a picture of the path of humanness, giving color to the pain and suffering accompanying us on this lonely, troubled road. Chartschenko’s words cut deep, giving breath of the very horrors many have witnessed, but have not had the strength to speak themselves. The prose within this collection have touched many of my own memories, curiousities, and base fears restricted to the long, dark hours during sleepless nights! I have listened to countless freestyle, raw readings of poetry on stages across the United States, and any poem within this collection would be a sound addition on that stage.

Buy Bright Needles

Review from J.D. Estrada

I recently read a poetry collection by a Nobel laureate. It was nice, but you could see the thought going into it. Even when some lines spoke of something personal, there was restraint and you could see the writer tip toeing around emotions.

There is no tiptoeing here.

Anaïs Chartschenko walks the fiery path of her emotions and delivers one of the most intensely honest collections I’ve ever read.

This is raw poetry. Beautifully and intensely raw at that. You wonder how much of what is captured here is inspiration and how much of the source material is from real life. I found myself again and again reading and being floor by how deep these lines carve. I’ve recently begun to read more poetry and have for some time always had a poetry collection running while I read other works and I can honestly say this is as candid as Bukowski, but no vulgarity, just pure raw emotion.

I picked this collection up not really sure what to expect and what I found is yet another indie author that has impressed me and leaves me intensely curious as to what is next. If you want to read something that is as deep and personal as a page can hold, this is a wonderful example of just that.



Buy Howling at the Moon: Live from my Living Room

Buy Immigration

And lastly, enjoy these excerpts from The Weightless One:

Reasons I Have To Stay

I was signed in,

I have no choice.

They tell me

My heart is failing.

They tell me

When you starve

Long enough, your body

Starts to eat your muscles.

Your heart is a muscle. It becomes

Your unwilling dinner.

They show me charts with

Low iron, low this and low that.

They tell me I need to take this


But it doesn’t seem real.

All that is real is my sudden

Total lack of control, total

Forced surrender, it feels

So broken it can never be


I can’t agree to any of these

Things. Not even when I

Feel my heart forget a beat.

Not even when I’m hooked

To machines.

Reasons I Should Get To Leave

I don’t count calories.

I don’t weigh myself.

I don’t obsess over models.

I don’t exercise.

I don’t take laxatives or


I don’t make myself

Throw up.

I don’t care what you think.

I think for myself.

I’m not this, I still have

My period.



Little Fish

We lay in a tight row

Like sardines,

Wrapped tight in

Blankets and thick

Fuzzy pajamas

Getting our blood

Pressure checked

Lay down, and close

My eyes to the other

Girls’ gossip, they

Try to include me,

But I have nothing

To say in the morning

This is a strange torment,

Laying so close to the others

Trapped between laughter

And the talk of having to

Drink ensures or not,

Of having to go to an

Increased nutrition plan,

Of family therapy sessions

Coming at the end of the




Kara began

Pulling out

Her hair


Bundles of

Blonde lay

On the floor,

Her lion mane

Alopecia found

“I’m sick of

 The lies!”  She

Twisted her

Face up her

Hands knotted

In hair

“Where did this

Come from?

I didn’t grow it!”

We watched

In horror

We watched

Unable to

Look away

From her


Underneath she

Was so small

Like a fragile glass


Her features too

Large for her head

Her hair was only

A few inches long

Thin dirty dishwater

Blonde strands like

Weeds dried out

In the sun

She smiled

She laughed

She burrowed

Her face in

Borrowed hair




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