My South by Wendy Carlisle
“My South” by Wendy Carlisle On the left, the Atchafalaya, so black, so burnt inside, silent as a pot. Down here, my lips equal silt and common bliss. Down here, I carry my grave folded in my pocket, a cardboard hunger, a box and shards. The woman beside me in this food line wears, a skintight skirt, has a back-door man. Down south we have the right to costumes and gossip, to numbers and pawn. Down south, we...
The Jugular by Karla Morton
“The Jugular” by Karla Morton You laughed when I said I got out of the truck, pocket knife in hand, looking for the horse I just hit. “And what would you have done with that?” I would have wanted to end his suffering; to cut his throat. “As if you ever could.” I hope I could have done it, if I needed to; if he hadn’t scampered off; if he’d lain there, barely breathing in the ditch. I hope I could wring a...
Dada Does Dominoes by Glenda Reed
“Dada Does Dominoes” by Glenda Reed Washy is so drunk he’s unable to hide his cheating. After slamming down a legal play, he attempts to slip a second domino near my end of the table. His fingers fumble the delicate procedure. I look to Raz, but he’s studying his own hand too closely to notice. Not wanting to leave the errant domino squatting for long, I snatch it up, “No you don’t,”...
Blue Goddesses by Laura Chaignon
“Blue Goddesses” by Laura Chaignon I was not born cross-legged Or blue Not like Shiva or Amma But I will give you my love I will put my lips on your wounds Swallow the puss Gorge on your pain I am no saint I do not preach You do not need to kneel Oh, I will kneel And liberate you From the suffering I will hug the demons out of you My love is a roaring river Melting ice, unstoppable Raging It does not hum...
The Woman Who Picked Me Up by Antonia Clark
“The Woman Who Picked Me Up” by Antonia Clark had slammed on the brakes of her rusty Dodge, deciding to pull over, after all had streaked hair and muddy boots, a lazy eye and, once in a while, a wistful look had a gallon of milk and a six-pack, a torn map, and a hammer on the seat between us had to have been under 30, but claimed she was no spring chicken in dog years had her radio tuned to country and tried...
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August 8-9 | immersion | noon to noon EST
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. Creative sisters are invited to join us at any point and remain for any length of time during our full-circle offering.
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The Deepest Place Jul 26, 2025
