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rehearsal.
Flower of Life, by Frida Kahlo I. When I looked at her how often I saw the coffin, how often she lay with a stillness so lovely I knew her fate as clearly as the sun and moon’s. With a stillness...
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a designer flock.
Woods at Night 1 by Chris Friel Sheep blindly pursuing the vacant salvation of wealth and conformity who sacrifice intuition for the sake of synthetic dreams don’t make it far in the darkness of...
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cosmic run on.
Cosmic Love, by Phillip Schumacher Inner and outer manifestations (of rage and tender touch, of ego pulled over the head inside-out, of space and the absence of matter, of ions forgetting charges and...
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winter isn’t the enemy.
Frozen Brain, by Iivio Ansaldi Forced to the warmth found between folds of halfhearted dreams suspended beneath animated skies frozen in unwelcome moments of silent disposition – the winter is surely...
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carefully chosen notes.
Surreal Birds, by Alexandria Baker As day rolls into night and night into day, the shaman sparrow sings his lilting song of secret, sacred notes performed for a slumbering Spring. Slicing through...
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existential arctic.
frozen heart, by Sephirothsdx As days grow longer soft hearts grow colder, weary of winter games forced upon the fair weather souls proclaiming arctic tolerance for pleasing the audience while...
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the secrets butterflies keep.
Butterflies by Igor Morski Universes woven with the fabric of what could have been shuffle through the air in between thoughts as colorful reminders of the faces and places known and unknown, seen...
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the reluctant thaw.
Reborn by Tomasz Alen Kopera A hesitancy exists within the forward momentum from winter to spring – within the stubborn iron grip of frigid fingers wrapped around tender tendrils of vernal birth...
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the plentitude of tomorrow.
Photograph by Jerry Uelsmann Through a forest and over mountains, across desert canyons and beyond the curve of cerulean horizon, lives a home – a secluded grove nestled between the pages of...
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the waiting place.
We all have our moments where we can’t think through the sadness. The moments where minutes become years and years swell with the vacancy of what was stolen or left carelessly behind, where...
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memorable remains.
Santa Teresa en la Concina by Leonora Carrington Life bleeds through fragile fingertips, too powerless and too late to inspire a change in the caustic rhythm of love and loss, oozing between the...
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the fabric.
Blame it on the neural pathways, (blame it on our tumultuous youths,) blame it on the dysfunction making us do it — seeking out wayward souls, (the lost amongst the loners, the outcasts hiding...
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what the birds know.
There is no greater purpose than this right here, this right now, existing within a pocket of warm air and birdsong, so many little voices singing their praises of life. This moment when the...
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beyond the walls.
Kevin German / LUCEO For the New York Times Paralyzing fear closes tightly in as yesterday’s wasted opportunities seep through its prison walls, collecting in the night’s mind as infinitely heavy...
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