Government Controlled, Love, Marriage, Body by Karen Henninger
“Government Controlled, Love, Marriage, Body” by Karen Henninger What does my writing/art mean to me? Art, no matter the form it takes, is a way of life. It is a level of proficiency that result frim refined practice. It is my freedom and peace. It is the place I can be when the social pressures are monsterous. It is a path out of an enslaved existence. ____________________ Share your response...
Calling by Laura Rockhold
“Calling” by Laura Rockhold the white pine easel set to my child-sized height the paper’s grain, rough edges fastened by wood clothespins a well-worn pearl snap work shirt draped on backwards as a smock sleeves rolled thick at the wrist the smooth tip of the paintbrush belonging, becoming in my hand every stroke a fingerprint the gentle morning sun radiant and still within me ____________________ Share...
Blue Moon and Bright Mars by Sandy Coomer
“Blue Moon and Bright Mars” by Sandy Coomer Now that I have you back, even your early morning footsteps seem blessed, and eggs scrambling in the skillet, the aroma of relief. I watch you from the doorway, your clothes hanging on your body, your hollow face busy in thought, until your eyes lift and burn me with light. We learned how to say love without words when the hospital nights sank their teeth in and the...
Company by Muriel Nelson
“Company” by Muriel Nelson . . . from what could we weave the boundary Between within and without, light and abyss,...
Dogs and Men in Bed by Marcia Meier
“Dogs and Men in Bed” by Marcia Meier in the early morning silence Aussie’s stub tail moves rapid-fire angles her body scrambles to get onto the bed our bodies a nest for her wiggling legs and paws head bobbing as you croon “relax”… my chest fills I look out the bedroom window, see the long-needled pine feel the shelter of this moment remember the lie once told “You ain’t nobody” ...
Denouement by Sarah Russell
“Denouement” by Sarah Russell The movers are here this morning. Only things with yellow post-its, I tell them. I find my long lost earring behind the couch. Probably landed there that night we couldn’t wait to get upstairs. I put it in my pocket, wonder if I kept the other one. I divide the sterling service for eight into two sets of four – Solomon solution of no use to either of us for dinner parties....
Parallax by Jeanette Miller
“Parallax” by Jeanette Miller Here’s where we part. Without question you walk your same, sure pace into the dark, its walls a comfort. Alone in this difficult light I’m stumbling without familiar boundaries. In the distance ivy adheres to a wall, an insistent cover of green. Did you assume I’d continue to walk beside you, providing a shadow? I lean into mine as if it were water. Each movement changes the...
The Cage Is Open by Margaret Chula
“The Cage Is Open” by Margaret Chula and Billy and Cooey are flying around the upstairs room in our Kyoto house—parakeets entrusted to us by an English couple leaving Japan. The birds are lovers and we awaken to their crooning in the small tatami room. Lovers, too, we lie beneath layers of futon, snow dusting the roof tiles. Parakeets are birds meant for sunshine and palm trees where all day they dart in and...
Aura by Ginny Rachel
“Aura” by Ginny Rachel I was perhaps four when I first saw the colors and stood in the gigantic spiral- shaped sprawling church lost someplace deep in my past. A haloed glow hovered around plain-robed priests. I asked and was told, “We don’t discuss the lights.” These men glowed white from no source, and were shadowless. The wide-open space was dim,...
Reception by Meghan Giles
“Reception” by Meghan Giles Liquored, you drive us while the other couples are honeymooned in their hotels. That rose bouquet I caught, dying, already, and we pass the spot where you pulled over and hit me, hit me next to wildflowers and tar. How my tin can bruise has bloomed like bluebonnets outgrown of soil skin, a handful of bluebonnets, a yellow yarrow, two prairie larkspurs, pressed between tissue, a...
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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
