Quintara Beach It’s not the ocean’s job to comfort me, but here I am each morning looking outside myself for succor. I watch the log on the shore but don’t…
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Unabstracting Light after Sueyeun Juliette Lee I know now: the light I wanted lives at the edge of the ocean, light waits for me on the waves I drove to…
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Pam Wye is an artist, educator, mom, swimmer. Her graphic history entitled “In the Midst of It All” was recently published in Spiralbound on Medium. Her graphic-memoir-in-progress, “Water I’ve…
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[Featured Image: Lonnie Holley Creating Sculpture titled The Aftermath of Many Hurricanes, photo by Reagan Petty, Duke Center for Documentary Studies, September 12, 2019] On a Tuesday morning, I sat…
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He wakes at the same time he did the day before. Every morning he shuffles in the dark through the same choreography, first throwing the blankets off his body, then…
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Tricked-out funhouse freak in the crushed velvet sheets of river you fold over me. Whack spazmodic Tao bazooka, flipping the switches of the cutbank like a Cadi on spreewells O…
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Kinshasa, 2012 You envy the river its sense of place. The slow current of years. The Bantu expansion in 500 BC, the rise of the Kongo Kingdom on its left…
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Horizon itself is a song: a sphere stretched into the tight fold of a rubber band, a loop flattened into an eyelash of dirt, the last snap of light caught…
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The Architecture of Water The Mississippi River is a work of architecture and an architect. Consider the following. Architecture can be made of water: For centuries, Inuits inhabited…
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I We were still upset, my brother and I. We’d refused to come home. Still had to, after a weekend at a small resort two hours away, with several artesian…
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海洋散骨: The Procession When I die, the nurse will first wipe my body with lukewarm water. My skin and hair will be patted dry and my ears and mouth…
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I sit in the bathtub and I crave salt water (I want the Sea of Cortez off the coast of Baja where I let my body grow limp as a…
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for Katie each inlet each dissolution was inner thought K loves the streams the glow an ecosystem and idea that came down mountain and everything alive and loud but…
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When I am flying in my dreams it’s like I’m swimming in the blackest milk. Nourishing but cold, cloistered in the phosphoresence , like God’s fingers are swirling the watery…
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