The Difference Between a Child and Offspring by Melva Sue Priddy
“The Difference Between a Child and Offspring” by Melva Sue Priddy The muddy-hoofed sow farrows on her side, fastened in the log pen, a wooden gate shoved up to fasten her in. She heaves and grunts. “Climb in,” he orders and I slip to the ground beside her. If she tried, she couldn’t see her other end, the swollen vulva swollen. And they will birth from that end, this year’s litter. “She’ll eat them all,” he...
In a Shark’s Mouth by Nicole Lacy
“In a Shark’s Mouth” by Nicole Lacy Someone once told me about the man-eating muskies in Lake Erie. Someone else swore there were snapping turtles big enough to take off toes and fingers. I stopped swimming, even though Grandma assured me that the stories of pikes picking off Great Lakes waders were myths. But because I was a curious girl, it wasn’t long before I learned about the bull shark, which can...
Spring by Chloe Honum
“Spring” by Chloe Honum Mother tried to take her life. The icicles thawed. The house, a wet coat we couldn’t put back on. Still, the garden quickened, the fields were firm. Birds flew from the woods’ fingertips. Among the petals and sticks and browning fruit, we sat in the grass and bickered, chained daisies, prayed. All that falls is caught. Unless it doesn’t stop, like moonlight, which has no pace to speak...
Unfettered by Melva Priddy
Unfettered by Melva Priddy A meandering god stepped into silence when I was three years old, settled and spoke with me inside the dappled edge of maples, oaks and cedars across the road. Unfettered, I melded with dirt, clay, tree trunks and stone. Doleful and pliant mud, worked from yesterday’s rain which persisted in widening the gully across the front field, we molded into dishes, laid them aside. Red clay. Red bowls....
The grasshopper, the hawk, and the squash vine by Felice Wyndham
“The grasshopper, the hawk, and the squash vine” by Felice Sea Wyndham She sat under the plum tree. Gobs of sap had oozed out of the trunk in spots and dried into clear purplish lumps. This garden behind the wattle and daub washroom was overrun with squash plants. Their vines reached up into the lower branches of the plum tree, cascades of orange trumpet blooms along their lines of growth. She had come to...
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
