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...
Trying to Return by Sandy Gillespie
“Trying to Return” by Sandy Gillespie The ledge is deep enough to sit on, wide enough for one. Damp ground, soft with layered leaves, is chill beneath me. A wood stove somewhere near breathes birch into the midnight sky — false sense of warmth. A full moon hangs cold light from heaven, a blaze of white to mark the river’s passing. I remember April’s jumbled crush of ice — the push of...
River Broken Story by Molly Scott
“River Broken Story” by Molly Scott A river runs between the ragged edges of my broken story Its blessing is its silence But when desire and longing rise up in me like a high wind keening never ever in my heart, and when the ghosts of gone loves jangle in the current like loosened stones, I run distracted on both sides of myself, wild, tearing my hair, believing everything and nothing, seeing rift and not the...
This month’s edition of WAVES is dedicated to our creative sisters whose spirits burn for their art while they are in the fight of their lives.
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How is artistic expansion the antidote to our worldly challenges?
Submit Your Art & Writing to WAVES
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We meet each other in waves of light, waves of vision, waves of sound–a studio beyond boundaries.
Creative sisters, shoulder to shoulder, shore to shore.
This time, there is no setting our art aside. This time, there is no setting our art asunder. This is our time.
December 6-7 | oneness | noon to noon EST | dip in and out throughout this twenty-four hour wave
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the antidote Oct 31, 2025
