Advice from Mother on Your One Less Day by Les Bernstein
“Advice from Mother on Your One Less Day” by Les Bernstein skip obligation’s inescapable sins wiggle out of pigeonholes enjoy happenstance and flux don’t forget to floss clog the clunky machinery of belief refuse templates of self ignore persistent memory elbows off the table airbrush your self portrait invite farcical pratfalls avoid hard labor’s invitation to bruise shoulders back stand up...
Autumn Melancholy with Birds by Margaret Chula
“Autumn Melancholy with Birds” by Margaret Chula Morning rain is tender, inviting me to slow down. How it taps the leaves before their final fall. Distant mountains obscured by fog are still there, even though I can’t see them. Will Mother die in autumn, hands nested in her lap, knuckles veined and buckled like the leaves of sugar maples? The bird feeder outside her window is empty. Once she told me she...
The Tulip-Flame by Chloe Honum
“The Tulip-Flame” by Chloe Honum My sister’s painting this: a hill, a lane that winds around the hill, and a wide field of tulips with a centered tulip-flame. She rolls her brush through gray and adds the rain in tiny flicks, glinting arrows of cold. My sister’s painting this: a hill, a lane. Last year our mother died, as was her plan. It’s simpler to imagine something could have intervened. The centered...
At Lock and Dam No. 10 by Kathleen Kelly
“At Lock and Dam No. 10” by Kathleen Kelly Twenty-two minutes without Coppertone, the first warning sign, a pinking around the eyes, the ears. The skin shimmers, opal-white. I stay afloat, my face lifting toward Iowa skies. A beginner. I was once afraid of the water, the skimming dragonflies, territorial mallards. A quick kick of my ankle jetties me farther. Away from shore. Farther away from her. Earlier,...
A Crown of Crows by Melissa Coss Aquino
“A Crown of Crows” by Melissa Coss Aquino I Upon her return she will be different. They gave her a clean slate, upon which to write a new life, for herself and me. New and transformed, no shadow of unmet hunger in her eyes; gone the bony grip, insatiable in its seeking and want. She will be clean and new and all things shiny like the plastic beads I used to love to wear in second grade. Will I be a reminder...
This month’s edition of WAVES is dedicated to our creative sisters whose spirits burn for their art while they are in the fight of their lives.
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How is artistic expansion the antidote to our worldly challenges?
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
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the antidote Oct 31, 2025
