Virginia artist Jennifer Cox calls her latest series of paintings, Wanton Biophilia, describing them as “a mash-up of psychology and biology; the result of a lifetime of fascination with the natural world filtered through my subconscious, my experiences, my thought processes and philosophical leanings.” Combining natural and imagined flora and fauna, Cox says, “I always start with what comes out of my head — whether I’m waking from a nap or envisioning something I’ve seen. I’m a voracious looker. I stop in the woods and look at mushrooms. sticks, branches against the sky. I’m … Continue reading Strange Fruit→
The whole kerfuffle starts with a thought. I could illustrate my blog. As soon as I think it, she shows up: the familiar, furious fluster-roar: WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU’RE NO ILLUSTRATOR! YOU’VE NEVER EVEN TAKEN A DRAWING CLASS! YOU CAN’T DO THIS. YOU CAN’T JUST DECIDE TO DRAW THINGS AND SHOW PEOPLE. STOP INSTANTLY. The wrath of Pointy Girl. She’s been around as long as I can remember and that girl has the tongue of a snake. She shrieks at me when I want to do something different. She snarls when I … Continue reading My Friend Pointy Girl→
Sharon Leiter August 12, 1942—January 15, 2016 “The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.” ― Emily Dickinson It’s with much heartache that we announce the passing of our poetry editor and dear friend, Sharon Leiter. After a two-year battle with cancer, she slipped away on Saturday, surrounded by her loved ones. Sharon was born in Brooklyn, New York, to a family of Russian-Jewish immigrants. She studied literature at Brandeis University, where she met her late husband, Darryl, an astrophysicist. Together, they raised their daughter in Virginia, where Sharon taught … Continue reading In Memoriam: Sharon Leiter→
Street of My Life Street of my life, I have left you and I have returned, wandering nights in your renovated future, The deed has passed into my keeping, and the dead, ever gracious, have agreed, to pretend they have never left. Short, unexceptional street, lined on both sides with two-story brick houses, Each with its painted stoop, pouring bruised-legged children down the stone steps, With its flower pots, its wooden bench and iron-fenced “garden,” large enough for a single flowering tree a row of crunchy-leafed bushes, And the last house with its Florsheim … Continue reading Honey and Six Poems by Sharon Leiter→
Smoke —translated from Theophile Gautier’s Emaux et Cemées, 1852-1872 Down there, under sheltering trees: A hunchbacked hovel of the poor— Walls crumbling; roof down on its knees. Moss blots the threshold of the door. The window’s shutter is its mouth. But like a tepid winter breath Exhaled from some living mouth, This hovel shows it’s far from death. It stands there shabby, closed-in, shut. But smoke is spiralling. A corkscrew’s Thin blue thread curls from that hut: Its soul, which carries God the news. Fumée Original French Là-bas, sous les arbres s’abrite … Continue reading Smoke by Len Krisak→
Many writers choose not to enter creative writing contests because they think the low odds of winning aren’t worth the effort. And yet, that’s exactly the kind of thinking that makes it easy for other people to enter writing contests and actually win them! If You Think It’s Too Hard To Win A Writing Contest, Consider This: There are a lot of really small contests out there. Often, individual writing groups will host their own small contests. Since these contests aren’t big, they won’t be as well known—and therefore will attract fewer competitors. Consider joining … Continue reading It’s Easier To Win A Creative Writing Contest Than You Think→
“Do you know how fast you were going?” Not fast enough, you don’t reply. You have somewhere to be, and you can’t get there quickly enough. It’s not your own bed (that’s where you just came from) and it’s not her bed (that’s where you won’t be coming again, anytime soon); it’s the house you are usually driving away from at this hour, hoping to find the way home through half-shut eyes. You’ve seen this little piggy before, you think, as he holds his flashlight expectantly in your face. And not just in those recurring … Continue reading Come and Get My Gun by Sean G. Murphy→
August 2012 Paris is empty. There’s no one left except the tourists who planned poorly, or cheaply. All the Parisians and even the other expats are in the south, or in Spain, or on the Côte. Everything’s closed; not one event scheduled until September. Even the blogs and guidebook sites I shoot for are quiet this time of year. I’ve taken every possible photo of Paris. There’s not much to do except walk around and look at shuttered doors. I’m the only person I know who has enough money to live in Paris, but not … Continue reading The Ones Who Stay by Jenna-Marie Warnecke→
On the day I found out that I was pregnant I went to a bar and drank heavily with my boyfriend. It was early afternoon and I had a spicy bloody Mary and followed it up with a few craft beers. He drank the same. We stretched our arms across the table and held hands, like newlyweds. The word shot-gun came up. We certainly weren’t getting married, not that we never would. We’d decided before my pregnancy test appointment at the clinic — I didn’t want to pee on a store-bought stick, that we weren’t … Continue reading No Matter What by Tracey Levine→
Connecticut artist Suzanne Heilmann explores the color white with her art installations. “I think of babies being born, all new and pristine clean. Purity and innocence are represented in a conscious and simplistic way. White is cold too, and the whole death thing. I have to be very careful to give it balance so it won’t be a negative. Or sad.”
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