What I’ve Become (A Cento All My Own) by Barbra Nightingale
“What I’ve Become (A Cento All My Own)” by Barbra Nightingale Here I am: the kind of woman who slakes a thirst no longer dry, casts pins to the wind though nothing sticks to air. I am black coal squeezed a lifetime. My eyes diamond light. I cannot look away, wear you on my hand. Your smile beamed photons the night when the mercury slithered like a black snake, a night whose edge is...
fathoms
I wished that woman would write and proclaim this unique empire so that other women, other unacknowledged sovereigns, might exclaim: I too, overflow; my desires have invented new desires, my body knows unheard of songs. Hélène Cixous . . . You need to reach down and touch the thing that’s boiling inside of you and make it somehow useful. Audre Lorde “The Cactus Flower”...
Persephone Picks Lilacs by Paula Sergi
“Persephone Picks Lilacs” by Paula Sergi Imagine sucking the blossom, subtle taste of grape. She’s dreamed lovers entwined and misses her husband. Pale morning light drives her to the garden where robins pull red earthworms from the ground. They look confused. It’s colder than the sun had promised. Who grafted these flowering trees, one branch white popcorn fluff, the other screaming pink? The gardener...
What Does My Art Mean to Me by Karel Sloane-Boekbinder
“What Does My Art Mean to Me” by Karel Sloane-Boekbinder She built her wings out of her cage fashioned them carefully from ribs of iron each rib stripped patiently rivet by rivet then reshaped to bend in the wind no wax was added she did not need Icarus to tell her this fabric instead patches from the quilts of her Grandmothers’ resourcefulness stitched with the precision of her Grandfathers’ hands she built...
clear waters
. . . Does the sea remember everything? I wonder. Does she absorb everything? Does she keep it safe? Virginia Woolf . . . “Lifting Waves” by Anonymous _________________________________________________________ Even if you have never awakened to find the room moon-suffused, the odd shoe casting blue shadow, windowpanes gridding the rug in elongated mosaics, even if that...
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The Q: In this moment, how will I claim my artistic power?
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the conch Mar 27, 2026 -
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