………………………………………………………….Tarsila do Amaral (Brazil, 1928) Since you last crossed the still, moonlit waters Waters grown moody for the fainting dawn Dawn advancing but for the last starlight Starlight gifts of spellbound magic for two Two, we knew, both full with reflected moods Moods long-expressed in your rhythmic cycles Cycles of your full light, waning for rest Rest like a new moon to relight our flame Flame of your crescent hung to leave hearts full Full moon, I was drawn to your drifting charm Charm found in your safe and secret refuge Refuge, never forgotten, for … Continue reading The Moon by Kenneth Boyd →
My Irish Catholic grandmother—no slouch herself to rosary beads and the Stations of the Cross—had a friend, Wilma, who was far more pious than she. So pious in fact, that she refused to answer the telephone, eat, cook, read the pay-puh or turn on the TV on Good Friday between the hours of 12 and 3 pm. Instead, she knelt in her living room and prayed during the Three Hours’ Agony—the hours of Christ’s crucifixion and death on the cross. Don’t get me wrong. My grandmother was all for a a solemn Catholic ritual, … Continue reading Good Friday by Kathleen McKitty Harris →
I’d already missed two periods before I went to Planned Parenthood in Berkeley. I knew the result before a woman asked if I wanted counseling. She had a lovely voice. “I always say, you’re the one to ask the questions of yourself. Who do you see in yourself, Gina, what do you want?” I answered that I was thirty-five, unmarried, and didn’t know what I wanted. “But my hormones aren’t neutral,” I laughed. “They’re saying yes but I just don’t know.” She asked about my circumstances. “The father is not committed but I’d like him … Continue reading Distances by Barbara Baer →
A few years ago, I was driving home from work, encountering typical rush hour traffic. At a red light, the car radio went dead. The light turned green. I hit the accelerator, and then the realization—my car won’t start. I am a nurse, and have been involved in many medical emergencies. The sight of blood captures my attention, but I know what to do. I can react and provide the necessary assistance in crisis situations. When it is required, I exude calmness, But any car issue, big or small, is an emergency that causes me … Continue reading Rush Hour Angels by Rosanne Trost →
Let me tell you uncomfortable I am with silence. I am handcuffed to a joke I can’t tell. Two crows are where my lungs should be. My exhales are the shape of birds. This is serious business. This is an average Tuesday. Finger in the light socket. Fork in the garbage disposal. Recycling bin blown over by the wind. The week’s detritus spread out for all the neighbors to see. I’m hungry but all my knives are too dull to cut anything. The voice coach said sing from your diaphragm. Someday I’ll have an office … Continue reading Same River, Different Day by Patrick Meeds →
When photographer Scott Smith isn’t observing the world, he’s building one from scratch. Standing in his well-ordered studio at Charlottesville’s McGuffey Art Center, Scott Smith muses over a framed print of one of his recent photographs. Created in the studio with small lights and unremarkable materials that include metal foil and the discarded label from a bottle of Gatorade, but rendered in dramatic black-and-white, the image is highly suggestive of a landscape, with a strong horizon line dividing an illusory mountain from its apparent reflection in water. Smith recently included the piece in a one-person … Continue reading The Artful Constructs of Scott F. Smith by Russell Hart →
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