Black Cat in a Field By Beverly Lafontaine
“Black Cat in a Field” by Beverly Lafontaine If you see a black cat in a field, stop, let the world go by while you and the black cat explore the field. Smell the morning air, suburb air, full of traces of gasoline, burned wood, diesel, dog shit and the raw remnants of wandering skunk. Smell it, inhabit it. Know that you are alive. Know that you, the cat and a dozen mice occupy this field, where the long...
Airy Humus by Lynn Tudor Deming
“Airy Humus” by Lynn Tudor Deming So it goes on a good afternoon, screening this top soil by the drive, jostling it over the mesh so the clean loam drops through, sifting out delicate cobwebs of roots, tendrils of weeds limp in slime, my sweat salting the collards of this stew until everything unwanted— little green bowls of splintered pignut, broken twigs, earth-caked stone, is left behind; better still to sift the...
Saint Flower by Ann L. Carter
“Saint Flower” by Ann L. Carter Zinnias are like some special kind of saint smiling in the face of my transgressions. They forgive me when I don’t water them though the Kansas sun beats down like hell. They accept it when I uproot them to some godforsaken spot I need to brighten. They keep face when I cut them down in full bloom and let them slowly wilt on my sunroom table while the cat nibbles at them and the vase...
Familiar by Sue Churchill
“Familiar” by Sue Churchill The stray cat in the loft owns the barn. Though the farmers shoo her, she returns, claiming her place through her own knowing. She knows its long blanks of silence. she knows the fullness of its motion from swallow to owl to snake to mouse to spider to fly. She has caught what moves in the soil under the manger. She knows how to slip behind the barn door in a pinch. She knows the...
Snake Molting by Lora Keller
“Snake Molting” by Lora Keller The itch starts at her eyes and sweeps down the pulsing muscle of her body. She swells and shimmies around fossil-pocked boulders, silvered driftwood. When she can’t find a bristled surface, she loops into her own strained and crusty flesh and peels herself from herself. She’s a single-limbed ballerina tugging off her tights, a wrinkled pool of inside-out skin coiled beside her, traces...
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
