Perfect Kernel by Mary Stike
“Perfect Kernel” by Mary Stike On the house roof, the mild November wind blows my hair as fine as spider’s breath across my face and I find on the rough grey shingles’ surface, a perfect kernel of bright yellow corn. I know my spirit sister visits me, watches me and leaves her golden gift of sustenance and care. Above, a crow, in ascendance in his own web that takes in our garden, scavenged stalks cut down...
Glide by Ginny Mahar
“Glide” by Ginny Mahar I walked out the back door of the house, fifteen years old with a pair of white leather ice skates looped over my shoulder. Down the hill and through the valley of the yard, I passed remnants of a snowman in a heap amid a Michigan-winter’s worth of snow. Beyond, a wall of long-needled pines opened into a meadow. Long coral ribbons of the day’s last light wove through the sky:...
Coastline Forecast: February by Claudia McGhee
“Coastline Forecast: February” by Claudia McGhee We frozen women hear the dogged beat of thickened waves through rotten, tunneled snow. We read on shale the grey veneer of sleet, in the blackened scrawl of seaweed, we know. The thickened waves through rotten, tunneled snow hammer our shores with mandatory pain. In the blackened scrawl of seaweed, we know the sharp edge. The slap of thunder and rain hammer our...
The Voyage Out: A Poem by Marian O’Brien Paul
“The Voyage Out: A Poem*” (a forced collaboration) by Marian O’Brien Paul I. The river Sometimes the river is an opulent purple or mud-colored or a sparkling blue like the sea A straw floats past, caught in an iridescent circle swims in the well of a tear Words strike her ear like the drop of a straw or a stick stroke or the impact on river water of a solitary tear With eyes as unreflecting as water...
Swash Zone by Nancy Carol Moody
“Swash Zone” by Nancy Carol Moody Breathing is primary; speech, secondary. Absent breath, speech does not occur. If the woman cannot breathe, she cannot scream. seafoam breaking on the shoreline a young girl, giggling The drowning woman extends her arms outward so that she may push down on the surface of the water, an action which forces her body upward, permitting her to breathe. This movement is not...
Art is my taste for freedom. I drown day and day until I pick up my paintbrush once again. So, somehow, I can tell myself that you’re not stuck in this room and that the canvas is the key.
Nina Salvadoré
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Seabed or ocean floor? What is the difference?
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WAVES ALIVE is an immersive experience held tenderly by the ebb and flow of ritual, sisterhood, creative expansion, then surfacing to share what we have uncovered about ourselves and our art.
October 11 | expansion | noon to 3pm EST
December 6-7 | oneness | noon to noon EST | dip in and out throughout this twenty-four hour wave
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Immersion Aug 29, 2025
