Welcome to our inaugural issue! Our featured writers are Addie Jenkins, Iris Fluellen, Gayle Ross, Merijane Block, Susanna Marie Anderson, Branwyn Holroyd, Christopher P. DeLorenzo, Luana, Daniel Raskin, Julie Nicholson, Elizabeth Terzakis, Cathy Schwabe, and Kaye Lesley Cleave.  

Kintsugi – More beautiful having been broken I’d like to think that this is true of hearts but I’m not really sure

“When you go to Barcelona, think of me,” said Charlotte’s mom, “and remember how I encouraged you to stay on top of the situation.”

Space between stars like black windows or, blue before it gets late. Look through to what can’t be seen.

I spoke of you today. I did not say your name. I think of you today, when we eat cake for breakfast. How, at the meetings, tiny as you were to begin with, as diminished as you came to be … Continue reading →

Eat yourself Prepare your tomb Crawl inside your little womb Let it go and turn to mush Tell the doubters now to hush Eyes dividing Wings for flying Futures now are multiplying

How do you change a person, No, how do you allow yourself to be changed? Can you run along the high trail, among the sunshine and shadow? Among the thin places where spirit seems so much closer? Will you listen? … Continue reading →

It turns out singing is all about the breath. Why am I surprised? For years I’ve heard this: the diaphragm, singing from the diaphragm, not the throat. You strain your voice if you sing from the throat. But there I … Continue reading →

As I was trekking solo from Paris to Amsterdam I met a woman named Denise on the flight. While she was only 5’8″ she appeared relatively tall. She was lithe, sinewy, dark, and carried herself with the Queen’s grace … … Continue reading →

Not long after my mother died, I was driving on I-5, north of Sacramento, not in much of a rush. I sensed a car behind me and checked the rear view. A chartreuse Maserati was on my tail and apparently … Continue reading →

Dad drives up to get me in the old Green and White Buick His bronzed hands with their black wiry knuckle hairs Trellis the steering wheel; turn us away from Manhattan toward Coney Island

A wedged-tailed eagle circled in a cloudless sky and sweat trickled down the groove in my spine as we hiked in Chambers Gully, Jess splendid as the plumes on a lyrebird in her tailored white shirt, designer stretch jeans, a … Continue reading →

He woke up in the middle of the night in the middle of a dream and listened for the sound that had taken him from sleep. He heard the creek up close and further away the river, both big from … Continue reading →

Long summer days of butterflies. When I was a child, we summered high above Beirut—to escape the sticky hotness. In the mountains, dry, cool smelling and pine forested, we lived on wide stone decks in small stone houses, napped in … Continue reading →