Open Holes

By Madelyn Biven   my body closes the holes i step into the holes they gather at my ankles and i become stuck they make me feel nervous and skinny like dancing with a ghost the holes grab my bones they make me stay and hold me in this snow […]

September 22, 2012  |  Read Article

Questions Worth Considering

By Julia Cost and Emmaly Wiederholt When we began our hike, the fog lay heavy and gray, barely breaking at the Berkeley hills we were climbing. By the end of our hike, the fog had receded beyond The City, leaving the Bay Area sunny and clear. This in many ways […]

August 25, 2012  |  Read Article

Remembering Lakes

By Madelyn Biven It’s beautiful chopped.   Your skin when we met was lettuce green, cabbage white.  Everything we ate, we became.  I always believed sun thirsted for your hazel, that’s why I lit candles close to you before day woke up, to see your hair drop into your mouth.  […]

August 23, 2012  |  Read Article

A Study of Flight

Painting and poetry by Julia Cost   I have flown through the night since I was small. My flight is a breaststroke through the sky It takes just a few powerful strokes to soar for miles I skim over trees, leaves brushing my belly I rush low over the surface […]

July 30, 2012  |  Read Article

Retrograde Gave Up

By Madelyn Biven Sea foam births apple seeds while tulips cry outside of their skin.  Their bulbs are death of stars; collapsed and lathering black air.  Charcoal lines exfoliate with burning rose petals.  Pottery wheels are spinning into infinity, which is the space between eruptions and flat tires.  Clay is […]

July 19, 2012  |  Read Article