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...
Valley River by Ethel Mays
“Valley River” by Ethel Mays See it running through fields of alfalfa and interloping wild oats, chasing after the sound of tight gut strummed over exotic woods crafted by the ones who know the music that must be played for the heart disappearing into green turning to sun beaten gold, valley floor the sacred anvil of the hammering sun, birds in flight with the ghosts of childhood memories: legs browned by...
Oceans by Shirley Plummer
“Oceans” by Shirley Plummer what is soluble or separable enters the oceans from a stream that empties into the sea from a lake, if lacking outlet soaking into the earth seeping through emerging in rivulets or evaporating into the sky falling as rain on water falling as rain on land rainwashed dust and smoke, even sand is moved by the sea and the edge of one sea blends into the next You, love, may be in the...
Does the sea remember everything? I wonder.
Does she absorb everything? Does she keep it safe?
Virginia Woolf
. . .
The Q: Can you fathom the spectacle that would be created if we moved together, arms outstretched, close enough to touch?
The Q: What echoes through you that longs to take form—a poem, an image, a mark, a whisper of becoming?
Recent From Waves
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fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
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