Fragments of Anna Dickinson by Sarah Hahn Campbell
“Fragments of Anna Dickinson” by Sarah Hahn Campbell In response to your inquiry. . . . . .This is a photograph of Anna Dickinson in 1862. Anna stands behind the carved chair in which the great Susan B. Anthony poses with one hand in her lap, the other holding a quill over a sheaf of paper at a desk. Anna’s plain black Quaker dress buttons up her neck. . . .In this photograph, Anna stretches naked on a...
Retro Causation by Peggy Dobreer
“Retro Causation” by Peggy Dobreer If you are alienated in your own house how can your wings ever unfurl? –Maxine Hong Kingston She’s got some nerve. Some call her the maker of the Procrustean bed, hospital corners. Don’t be too smart, too strong, too epiphanied. Temporary infertility is to be expected in art. She had the bad itch. Was restless as water but looked cool as can be to the outside....
A Meditation on the Wave by Sarah Hahn Campbell
“A Meditation on the Wave” by Sarah Hahn Campbell I was 19 the first time I glimpsed the ocean, and I didn’t see it from the shore of my own country. An Iowa farm girl at an Iowa college, I’d applied to do my junior year abroad in Nottingham, England. My first view of the ocean, then, was from a United Airlines plane at 35,000 feet, in the middle of the night. I woke, peered out the window, and couldn’t...
She’s Got Some Nerve by Janet Fitch
“She’s Got Some Nerve” by Janet Fitch It takes some nerve to be a woman writer. In the Mae West film Night After Night, a coat check girl exclaims, “Goodness! What beautiful diamonds!” West quips, “Goodness had nothing to do with it, dearie.” The same is always true with writing. Putting our thoughts on the page, making people see the world from our point of view, has nothing to do with being good,...
Last Class by Shawn Lacy
“Last Class” by Shawn Lacy Close your eyes, she says; it won’t hurt you, at least not in this form–tactile prompt, giggles around the room, word association, trust, faith, reliance, friendship, back to trust. Not yet feeling that I have any tips to give to a soul about writing, I decide to go for the “close your eyes and hold out your hands for the object,” a sugar cube. One is often taxed with the reality of...
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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