Karma by Felicia Mitchell
“Karma” by Felicia Mitchell Saving the sparrow whose small self is wound by wire may not save the cat half eaten by coyote. It may not save even me from myself, sorrow coiled around my heart like a copperhead. I love my cat. I love the coyote that tried to eat the cat. But I am sad about the cat, as sad as a woman crying. I know it is what it is, this snake that will strike or not strike, on any given day, no...
Beginning the Journey by Ruth Thompson
“Beginning the Journey” by Ruth Thompson Something is ended. She launches the small paper boat of it out onto the ocean and turns to the west. To wade out through glittering and foam, to lie upon the deep, to be a membrane between stars and mirrored stars. Then when her throat is full of all the voices she can carry, to turn and swim for shore. To run back, crying messages...
Why You’re Afraid of the Road by Charlotte Muse
“Why You’re Afraid of the Road” by Charlotte Muse There is room for one car, but what if the wheels miss and the car hangs over the edge with two tires spinning? You’d be moving frantically against the door, hoping to keep the balance or get out. Never would the yellow dust of the road seem so desirable; the blue sky so thin and threatening; and you a turned-over turtle, a blind bird! Or what if you...
October Ends by Marsha Howland
“October Ends” by Marsha Howland For Maureen, 1983-2014 The morning rain has ended; the afternoon mist has finally lifted. Late-day sun shines soft and bronze through the yellow and orange leaves at the edge of the woods. It envelops me, then passes on through the French doors, resting on the wall with the Wyeth print. It has reached the end of its journey, this light that has traveled a hundred...
Responsibility by Shirley Plummer
“Responsibility” by Shirley Plummer weary thoughts of the end arise when how if I knew certainly would I make a pragmatic plan? or throw up my hands shout ‘live it up, make hay –‘ why not? if there were sun to lie in I might lie in it stretch and relax enjoy for the first time total freedom ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Shirley...
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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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.
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seabed or ocean floor Sep 26, 2025
