Delicate by Carol Grannick
“Delicate” by Carol Grannick This is her teacup—hand-painted leaves and flowers with a bouquet of names of borage, chive, chamomile, and tansy. On top, a delicate lid to keep tea warm. This is her teacup, and there she is in her sun room, not as she left it but as she dreamed it could be clean-dusted shelves boasting tidiness. This is her teacup, and she places it down. The desk is almost empty,...
La Dama Violeta Para la Carmen by Helen Hernandez
“La Dama Violeta Para la Carmen” by Helen Hernandez ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Helen Hernandez Artist Statement: I am Helen Hernandez and I am a first generation Salvadoran-American woman born and raised in New York. Most of my adult life I spent in Texas which gave me a rich sense of latino culture. I create through art and words stories about...
My Tribe is Leaving Me by Julane Borth
“My Tribe is Leaving Me” by Julane Borth The only thing worth writing about is the heart in conflict with itself. William Faulkner It’s time rising from deep within is a message I’ve been waiting for clarity has caught up strength has caught up I can see where I’ve been walking in shoes too...
Integration of Selves by Gillian Barlow & Carrie Nassif
“Integration of Selves” by Gillian Barlow & Carrie Nassif This white-out poem is taken from p. 56 of Virgina Woolf’s Orlando, published in 1994 by Chancellor Press. Gillian and I did a lot of experimental poetry using this as our source and this was the favorite of mine. ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Gillian Barlow Artist Statement:...
Ready by Julia Gordon-Bramer
“Ready” by Julia Gordon-Bramer Everything I have done until this point, from birth through this fifty-five years, has been training, my practicum, for what I am about to become. That was the old caterpillar and chrysalis. Now, I rip open the cocoon and spread my wet wings. I am the culmination of all I was. I am bigger than inspiration because now I am doing the dream. No one has to witness my flight for it...
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?
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fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
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