(Art poem) Ing’s Ride by Ingrid Andrew
I am Ingrid. I am Ing’s ride. I ride the chariots of Spring. I scatter petals in my wake; and gather birds, and throw them on the wing. I am Read More …
I am Ingrid. I am Ing’s ride. I ride the chariots of Spring. I scatter petals in my wake; and gather birds, and throw them on the wing. I am Read More …
This is the first in a three part series of old articles and papers by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D. that were written in the 1980’s and 1990’s, two of which were Read More …
Vasilisa reached for a long, flat black lacquer box from its hiding place atop a roughly-hewn shelf. She slid open the box and let her hand rest on its contents Read More …
[Author’s note: This paper is published in the journal, the Gukhak yeonguronchong 국학연구론총 (Issue 14, December 2014). Here it will appear in five sequels including the response by Dr. Glenys Livingstone.] Magos, Read More …
Women lifesavers (including one in a burqini) dance on a beach. Mermaids populate the ocean behind the figures.
With a sudden clatter, Marya, Varya, Darya, Varya, and Zarya began to shift back and forth on the table, as if attempting to dance, and they squeaked all at once, “You’d Read More …
1. Immacolata The Boss we called her, though in life her authority barely reached beyond the aroma-stained walls of her over-worked kitchen. She came to America from Puglia in 1920, Read More …
This painting was born entirely intuitively. She emerged from the timber of her own accord and the patterns and shapes made with initial markings were followed. I approached the work Read More …
Poemas Ante el Catafalco: Grief and Renewal (Chimbarazu Press 2014) Donna J. Snyder It is a poet’s challenge to find language for emotions that elude language. In Poemas Ante el Read More …
Every seven generations, one child is chosen from the pool of seed floating on the surface of Secret Lotus Lake. She comes to keep the bond intact and ever blooming Read More …
I was bred to appease, close the gaping mouth of desire, a child speaking in the foreign tongue of docility relying on conforming consonants, denying voracious vowels their due, jailing Read More …
Evening came to the izba. The loom ceased its clatter. Vasilisa filled a dark iron kettle from a bucket of spring water, and set it on the shelf of the Read More …
The little rant sits by the window. The little rant ages by the window. Her birthday, just another day. But at least she has this window. Read Meet Mago Contributor Read More …