The Q: mother water
Jun11

The Q: mother water

mother water Q: Imagine what would change if we cast aside our lines to swim in mother waters.*Responses will be curated and may be shared with permission.Permission* Yes, I give my permission Show Full AgreementBy submitting your response, you are granting AROHO permission for possible publication – in whole or excerpts – in WAVES, which is also archived on our website and may be shared on social platforms.Name* First Last Address*...

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longings
May29

longings

  In this moment, we find ourselves longing. Our table is set for goddesses. We have dreamt each other.     “Inversion” by Anon   _________________________________________________________   Winter lies too long in country towns; stays on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen, Willa Cather in My Antonia     Have I, like winter in a country town, stayed on too long? Growing old, have...

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Sheltering by Clare Olivares
May29

Sheltering by Clare Olivares

  “Sheltering” by Clare Olivares   ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here   Clare Olivares Artist Statement: My artwork is inspired by the lyricism of the natural world. Themes I explore are time, memory and place. I create using acrylics, watercolors and inks on canvas and paper. My portfolio includes paintings, text-based art and writings. Both my paintings and writings...

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Winter Self by Florence Ladd
May29

Winter Self by Florence Ladd

  “Winter Self” by Florence Ladd   Winter lies too long in country towns; stays on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen, Willa Cather in My Antonia   Have I, like winter in a country town, stayed on too long? Growing old, have I grown stale and sullen? My attire Is a matter of rapt attention, but am I seen as shabby? Perhaps my over-told anecdotes gone stale. I could Refresh those stories with more...

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soundings
Apr24

soundings

  “Detail” by Anon   _________________________________________________________   Whale fall is thick with charged particles: flesh, bone.   Comes my manta shape: flat, half-lidded eyes –   Song Eater, me.   I swallow what remains to be said.   Her last call spoke the letting go. I becoming not-I.   Then she fell silent under the weight of voracious worms.   Now she rests at...

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