Space by Lisa Rosenberg
“Space” by Lisa Rosenberg My father brought home the blue-jacketed, government-issued views of the surface of the moon. Parsed, printed, and bearing the crosshairs of our optics on mottled fields where illusion made bubbles of craters as we watched; my small body tracking toward a moon-cycle still years away. Toward wings I would seek to merit, and a paper to confirm my degree in postulating the deep workings...
On Shawano Lake by Lora Keller
“On Shawano Lake” by Lora Keller I wrap an orange life jacket around my shoulders like a crusty stole. You thread the loose canvas tie through the two silver rings at my waist and tug it tight, twice. It’s my turn, my one time all year to be alone with you. Your sons are still asleep and jealous. Your other daughter is afraid of worms. Our Evinrude fractures the quiet morning and soon we stop at the edge of a...
Tanka for Precious and Angie and Vivian, in Particular by M. Nzadi Keita
“Tanka for Precious and Angie and Vivian, in Particular” by M. Nzadi Keita Daffodils name you ‘home of delicate things.’ They know your yellow mind. Pollen trumpets secretly nod. Hear them open their throats? ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here M. Nzadi Keita’s Artist Statement: M. Nzadi Keita’s collection of persona poems, Brief Evidence of Heaven...
Mothers by Chloe DeFelippis
“Mothers” by Chloe DeFelippis green eyes & her mother’s television echoing, she’s learned to sleep on the couch. greens eyes & her mother’s brown bags full, she collects packets of salt, pepper, ketchup. green eyes & her mother’s handwriting on index cards, she cries when shredding paper. green eyes & her mother’s dead infant daughter, she’s learned to walk away from needy little girls sad...
Ethel Finds Money by Karen Heuler
“Ethel Finds Money” by Karen Heuler My adopted sister Ethel sat opposite me at the dinner table, waiting for the food to arrive in the multicolored bowls Mom had gotten long ago, to cheer Ethel up and encourage her to eat. Ethel was humming to herself, kicking her legs back and forth; I could tell because her body rocked rhythmically. She often did it. She picked up her fork, examined it, and put it down. My...
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
