Historic clothing created and modeled by Seamstress of Rohan.
Photography by Helena Aguilar Mayans.
Take a spoon, silver’s best, but any spoon
Will do, so long as it is old. It should
Be held in the left hand. Take it now, room
To room...
Photography by Courtney Fox
What sweeter balm than nature to soothe the lonely soul? In this poem, Wordsworth gives his readers a Romantic description of nature’s beauty through the point of view of a “lonely cloud.” I know that in...
She had eyes like apple seeds.
A small, angular face that reminded me
of a fox’s mask. Was it a mask she wore
the whole time I was with her?
The thing about faeries is, they’re not like us,
material. Indeed, they most resemble
assemblages...
Illustration by Julia Jeffrey of Stonemaiden Art
Sometimes when we fight,
I want to slip on my seal skin
and disappear beneath the waves.
I warned you when we married
there are only so many times
I can drink my own tears
before the ocean comes...
Article taken from Issue #36 || Autumn 2016
Print || Digital
A hunger for green things|
starts in the toes,
lingers at the hedges
on deersoft steps.
She waits for nightcover
to track past clover and henbit,
to garden lettuces and parsley
and strips them down to topsoil.
The hunger for...
O silent wood, I enter thee
With a heart so full of misery
For all the voices from the trees
And the ferns that cling about my knees.
In thy darkest shadow let me sit
When the grey owls about thee flit;
There will I...
Photography by Paul Barson
Even here the glimmering simbelmynë grows
in the ghostly pale green meads and haunted hollows
far from the hallows somber in their ordered rows
where our old bones the cold earth slowly swallows.
Of certainty indeed no living person knows
and...
Illustration by Marina Mika
We know you only by your absence.
The hole left behind, pressed
through the drifts like something
fallen from a great distance.
Wings shorter than we would have expected,
stumpy and round as a sliced orange peel
and your body a footless...
Photography by MICHAELA DURISOVA
The root queen knows your secret hopes.
The root queen knows your heart
The root queen’s crown is thorn and branch;
her garden, silver bones,
where acorn-seeds dream of oak-leaves,
and shadows speak of bright.
Have you seen the root queen there,
combing...
Painting by Anne Bachelier
Your once-silken voice will desert you, your legs
will make every step on land a torture.
There will come a time when you miss
the seaweed and seals, your old ways,
your old body. Now fit for neither land
nor sea,...