Issue 5: Take Notice
Cover art: “Duality in the Garden” by Jacelyn Yap
Editor’s Letter
Dear readers,
Welcome to the Fall 2023 issue! In these creative pieces, you’ll find luminaries, photographs, histories, and the sea. This is not the summer sea of vacations. Caroline Lazarova’s poem ties this force to “the breaking / and the binding.” What do you do when you’re faced with the unexpected, unthinkable, anticipated moments that force us to adapt--those moments and experience that bind us together, or may break us? Whether in childhood, ages past, or with those we love, we think back to those times where we might have said a version of “I don’t think I could have been happier, / Not then or now” as in “Going Back to Granite Island.” In these moments, as in Kathleen Calby’s “Colossi of Memnon,” we might say, “I am stunned as a bird that flies at the glass.” So what then?
Listen: “Sometimes I hear / the spirits of their laughter ring the hills, / manifesting the old lessons and the old songs” – “Heaven as Highway 33” Take Notice: “It’s almost midnight,” she said, standing over him. “Come and sit by the fire.” – “Magic by Midnight”
We are reminded to notice the world around us. Writing (and Art), at its essence, is an act of noticing. It is the art of capturing the nuanced shades of the world around us, whether it’s the whispering leaves of a childhood haunt or the pulse of a bustling city square. Through our words, we pay homage to the beauty and complexity that surrounds us, but noticing is not always an easy task. It requires us to confront not only the joys and wonders, but also the shadows, the uncomfortable. It beckons us to acknowledge the souls on street corners, the ghosts of past pains, and the uncertainties that dance on the horizon.
Paige Gilchrist reflects, “What’s an omen these days if it’s not packaged with flash / and scale?” This is the season of reminder of cycles, the leaves that stop their current work, fall and become something different in the dirt. Imogen Forester reminds us that, often we all feel in this season that “something’s missing / and it turns sour, has to be thrown away.” However, this issue (like this lovely season) is not all gloomy. In fact, there’s this seasonal magic that infects artists, like Shannon Frost Greenstein, “to feel my dreams from so many years ago / starting to resurrect from the grave.”
Like paper bag lanterns lined up on a drive, the pieces in this issue illuminate hearts of many kinds: “Visitation” is a quiet love letter to creatures with hearts as long as their bodies “silently cycling / nutrients back into the soil.” We learn of hearts “saved / in the body...the seat of / the soul,” kind-hearted neighbors as in “Just Another Good Samaritan,” and another in “Chromatherapy” who “painted his wife into every house he built.”
If you’re here, reading this, I hope you find these words a balm. As you immerse yourself in the pages of this issue, I invite you to pause and reflect on what catches your attention, what stirs a memory, and what lingers in your thoughts. And, if you’re so inclined, write it down and maybe send it our way.
Welcome to Issue 5.
Hannah Cole Orsag
Editor-in-Chief
Welcome to the Fall 2023 issue! In these creative pieces, you’ll find luminaries, photographs, histories, and the sea. This is not the summer sea of vacations. Caroline Lazarova’s poem ties this force to “the breaking / and the binding.” What do you do when you’re faced with the unexpected, unthinkable, anticipated moments that force us to adapt--those moments and experience that bind us together, or may break us? Whether in childhood, ages past, or with those we love, we think back to those times where we might have said a version of “I don’t think I could have been happier, / Not then or now” as in “Going Back to Granite Island.” In these moments, as in Kathleen Calby’s “Colossi of Memnon,” we might say, “I am stunned as a bird that flies at the glass.” So what then?
Listen: “Sometimes I hear / the spirits of their laughter ring the hills, / manifesting the old lessons and the old songs” – “Heaven as Highway 33” Take Notice: “It’s almost midnight,” she said, standing over him. “Come and sit by the fire.” – “Magic by Midnight”
We are reminded to notice the world around us. Writing (and Art), at its essence, is an act of noticing. It is the art of capturing the nuanced shades of the world around us, whether it’s the whispering leaves of a childhood haunt or the pulse of a bustling city square. Through our words, we pay homage to the beauty and complexity that surrounds us, but noticing is not always an easy task. It requires us to confront not only the joys and wonders, but also the shadows, the uncomfortable. It beckons us to acknowledge the souls on street corners, the ghosts of past pains, and the uncertainties that dance on the horizon.
Paige Gilchrist reflects, “What’s an omen these days if it’s not packaged with flash / and scale?” This is the season of reminder of cycles, the leaves that stop their current work, fall and become something different in the dirt. Imogen Forester reminds us that, often we all feel in this season that “something’s missing / and it turns sour, has to be thrown away.” However, this issue (like this lovely season) is not all gloomy. In fact, there’s this seasonal magic that infects artists, like Shannon Frost Greenstein, “to feel my dreams from so many years ago / starting to resurrect from the grave.”
Like paper bag lanterns lined up on a drive, the pieces in this issue illuminate hearts of many kinds: “Visitation” is a quiet love letter to creatures with hearts as long as their bodies “silently cycling / nutrients back into the soil.” We learn of hearts “saved / in the body...the seat of / the soul,” kind-hearted neighbors as in “Just Another Good Samaritan,” and another in “Chromatherapy” who “painted his wife into every house he built.”
If you’re here, reading this, I hope you find these words a balm. As you immerse yourself in the pages of this issue, I invite you to pause and reflect on what catches your attention, what stirs a memory, and what lingers in your thoughts. And, if you’re so inclined, write it down and maybe send it our way.
Welcome to Issue 5.
Hannah Cole Orsag
Editor-in-Chief
Threads and Throughlines
Duality in the Garden by Jacelyn Yap // Visual Art
Sitting on the Stairs with My Father, 1969 by Paige Gilchrist // Poetry
Sitting on the Stairs with My Father, 1969 by Paige Gilchrist // Poetry
Whole and Hollow
*TW: some pieces in this section include themes of physical abuse and trauma (Dirty Laundry), substance use (At Marylene’s), and/or depression and suicidal thoughts, which may be distressing for some readers.
Visitation by Paige Gilchrist // Poetry
Dirty Laundry* by Cynthia Bernard // Poetry
St. Andrews by Caroline Lazarova // Poetry
At Marylene’s* by LeeAnn Perry // CNF
Canopic Jars or What the Egyptians Did with the Dead’s Vital Organs by Kathleen Calby // Poetry
Colossi of Memnon by Kathleen Calby // Poetry
Dirty Laundry* by Cynthia Bernard // Poetry
St. Andrews by Caroline Lazarova // Poetry
At Marylene’s* by LeeAnn Perry // CNF
Canopic Jars or What the Egyptians Did with the Dead’s Vital Organs by Kathleen Calby // Poetry
Colossi of Memnon by Kathleen Calby // Poetry
Traces
Step Through by Kyla Houbolt // CNF
Magic by Midnight by Joseph Friesen // Fiction
Deer in Evening Light by Joy Massey // Visual Art
1939: A Refugee Describes Her New Situation by Imogen Forster // Poetry
Cameras by Patty Somlo // CNF
Magic by Midnight by Joseph Friesen // Fiction
Deer in Evening Light by Joy Massey // Visual Art
1939: A Refugee Describes Her New Situation by Imogen Forster // Poetry
Cameras by Patty Somlo // CNF
Refraction
*CW: “Sirens...Swimming Pool” contains references to substance use and alcoholism, which may be distressing for some readers.
A Rhythm of the Heart by David Olayide // Visual Art
Some Years Demand Chicory and Cilantro by Adriana Estill // Poetry
Sirens of a Suburban Neighbor’s Swimming Pool* by Carl Peters // Fiction
Going Back to Granite Island by Laurence Levy-Atkinson // Poetry
Some Years Demand Chicory and Cilantro by Adriana Estill // Poetry
Sirens of a Suburban Neighbor’s Swimming Pool* by Carl Peters // Fiction
Going Back to Granite Island by Laurence Levy-Atkinson // Poetry
Balm and Scars
*CW: “THUNDR” contains mentions of a fatal car accident, which may be distressing for some readers.
My Right-Hand Man by Shannon Frost Greenstein // Poetry
THUNDR* by Epiphany Ferrell // Fiction
Storm Junked by Rachel Orta // Poetry
Chromatherapy by Melanie Maggard // Fiction
THUNDR* by Epiphany Ferrell // Fiction
Storm Junked by Rachel Orta // Poetry
Chromatherapy by Melanie Maggard // Fiction
Thresholds
Family Treasures by Adriana Estill // Poetry
Just Another Good Samaritan by Maggie Nerz Iribarne // Fiction
The Upstairs Rooms by Danita Dodson // Poetry
Heaven as Highway 33 by Danita Dodson // Poetry
Canal in the Morning by Jacelyn Yap // Visual Art
Just Another Good Samaritan by Maggie Nerz Iribarne // Fiction
The Upstairs Rooms by Danita Dodson // Poetry
Heaven as Highway 33 by Danita Dodson // Poetry
Canal in the Morning by Jacelyn Yap // Visual Art