Bulletin by Cheryl Clarke
“Bulletin”(1) by Cheryl Clarke Disguising her vigilance with passive stance, she read the bulletin stealthily, with some difficulty and great understanding. The General will esteem it as a singular favor if you can apprehend a mulatto girl, servant and slave of Mrs. Washington, who eloped from this place yesterday. She may intend to the enemy. Her name is Charlotte but in all probability will change it. She...
102. by M. Nzadi Keita
“102.” by M. Nzadi Keita My mother washed your weekly pile of panties while pee tested her own body’s drawstring with a faint touch, then a nudge. She wanted to get done, to skip the field. She wanted to play. After she hung your drawers up by the scant silk rim, made to catch your sweat, she dropped her head into a quiet she could own. This girl. Whom you called “Your Girl” or “Your Day Girl” depending on...
Imagine: A Love Song by Denise Miller
“Imagine: A Love Song” by Denise Miller -for and “from” Sandra Bland Imagine I am not fingernail scrapings— imagine I am not neck, or vagina or legs— Imagine I, am not a knot. Imagine you are not a toe tag. Not rubber band that encircles...
Queen Without a Face by Monteque Pope-Le Beau
“Queen Without a Face” by Monteque Pope-Le Beau ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Monteque Pope-Le Beau Artist Statement: My purpose came late in my life. You see for over 26 years or more, I have been sick most of my life. Raised by a single mother; she provided a life that was very comfortable and allow me to reach the heights of my potential. My...
Quiet 1 With Eyes by M. Nzadi Keita
“Quiet 1 With Eyes” by M. Nzadi Keita with eyes My husband oversees the world up front where all the parlor-talk is Congress and North Star and Harper’s and what they Know is only what they Read. When I pass, The Readers squint into my mouth. with eyes that you could use to sharpen something. I watch him worry. watch him when I raise my brow watch his eyes burn off my work...
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?
Submit Your Art & Writing to WAVES
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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.
December 6-7 | oneness | noon to noon EST | dip in and out throughout this twenty-four hour wave
Recent From Waves
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seabed or ocean floor Sep 26, 2025
