According to Greek and Egyptian legend the Phoenix is a symbol of renewal. In modernity the Phoenix communicates the importance of resilience and strength. But the Phoenix can be neither the symbol of renewal nor the symbol of strength without the restfulness of darkness just after the Phoenix becomes ash.
Rust
Swells are best described as ___________________________________________.
a. a slow rhythmic heaving or rolling
b. somewhat detrimental to an aged fiberglass hull
c. portents of a storm. Try the engine again
d. just waves
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“I thought I was a seafarer.” This statement is ___________________.
a. true
b. false
c. wrong
d. both true and wrong
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Which of the following is not relevant?
a. They will find me. I know this.
b. I’m stricken with fear nonetheless.
c. I should keep at least one friend and tell him where I am going next time.
d. I have always been afraid of the wrong things.
Author | Marc Phillips
SHADOW DANCING
Artist | Bette Ridgeway
Watercolor
FLOWERED
Artist | Debra Fleury
Ceramic Sculpture
Author | Maria Wickens
Mother's Day
I’d have spun a room of straw into gold if he’d asked. Stolen watercress from a sorceress to bewitch him.
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I pleaded to any deity that would listen. Give me a child. Not to love, but to anchor my husband to me. To us.
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Motherhood would change me into a selfless being.
My husband would suffer contentment, and commitment would strike. Family would pull him back to us, shortening those weeks away on tour.
A baby would fulfill my end of the contract to be happy. That is how it is supposed to work. Baby, family, love. When you spawn, fulfilment and happiness are yours tied up in a big red bow. That’s the real thing. Apple trees and honeybees and snow-white turtle doves.
REBIRTH
Legend states that there is only one Phoenix in existence every 500 years. The individualism and grandeur of the Phoenix inspires many to believe in the power of rebirth and beauty after pain. The hope instilled by the Phoenix moves us to appreciate the fiery rebirth of the once ashen bird.
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FACES OF THE MOON
Artist | Claire Tsui
Chalk + Colored Pencil
I hope this email does not find you well.
I hope this email does not find you
And instead arrives to a desk overgrown with moss,
Lit quietly by a shard of light through your collapsed apartment ceiling
And that the silence that it finds there is simply deafening.
I hope this email does not find you
And that it goes around the corner to your kitchen
Where your discarded dishes stand like lichened towers,
And that it will not find you staring into the refrigerator
Saying “There’s nothing to eat,” to the bread and eggs and strawberries – long gone.
I hope that you are nowhere to be found.
I hope this email does not find you
Scouring the bathtub, dusting cobwebs out of cupboards.
I hope the ivy has taken over the couch
And surrounded all the cushions, blanketed the armrests.
I hope that birds are nesting in your wifi router
And that a family of squirrels has made a home in your utensil drawer.
I hope this email does not find you
Because you are far away and doing something gorgeous,
And that you haven’t given me a second thought.
I hope this email never finds you.
I hope this email never catches up.
I Hope This Email Never Finds You
Author | Anna Stacy
DEATH
You May Begin.
Rust is about the beauty of aging— the embarrassment, humor, and ultimate acceptance of physical, emotional, and internal changes. While sometimes ugly, aging is natural and mesmerizing, like the rust that appears on old metal.
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Artist | Ariel Rivka Dance
Dance Video
Author | Keturah McQuade
SEXY FISHERMAN
Artist | Liz Hogg
Music Video
Thoughts From the Mad and Discarded
A leaf, cruelly shucked from its peaceful perch, spun towards the earth in a mad sort of way. Its soft green skin had distorted into a rusty shade of red, and it was stiff and full of sorrow.Whirling like frantic helicopter blades, the discarded leaf burrowed into my hair and spoke to me. “Love me,” it pleaded. I turned and stared, having to tilt my neck at an incredibly unflattering angle to see where it had landed. Carefully, I pulled it from my unruly curls, wary of crinkling the blades lest they crack.
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Love me. What an odd thing to hear, especially from a leaf. But, then, maybe that isn’t so odd, for who does not want to be loved? Who, when their dreams fade to doubts and their happiest memories turn sour like spoiled milk, doesn’t wish for a moment where they feel known and whole?
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EVERYTHING INSIDE
Artist | Valeria Amirkhanyan
Painting