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...
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...
Feature Image Credit:  Peter Horree / Alamy Stock Photo He drifted through kelp, broken scalp diffusing red like squid ink clouding itself. Crowded, the spiny urchins hinged their drift west. He slept, I knew, towards his death. What harm could there be in waking him? Through...
This collection of poetry is about time and consciousness. In one way, time is merely a human construct that does not exist except as we have imagined it, so that we can function in our daily lives. In another...
  I tore off my skin in the moonlight and became a seal, sleek and noisy. One day a man put his arms around me, and my arms and legs became tree limbs. It turned out I was the enchanted princess all along,...
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...
It is a privilege to be the keeper of a historic, quaint cemetery in my small Maine town—a magical place hidden within the forest, accessible by an old wagon trail. The hallowed ground is natural and wild, covered in...

Besom

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Photography by Courtney Brooke Twenty eight broomcorn bunches in the center, seventeen on the outside, jagged bristles bound, many years ago I would have just swept up Cheerios and glitter, dirt; brooms were for cleaning. Now Besom, you’re bound for riding. Somewhen, I will cut the...
Article From 2014 Spring Issue #26 Subscribe // Print // Digital Sing your song for us, mamma, they cry, sing your song, sing your song, small white cheeks upon pillows, bright eyes blinking the black. Tearless lovelies are mine, who know only sugarplums and ponies; they beg night...
We hope you're having a gorgeous Wednesday! We wanted to make your afternoon slightly more gorgeous with this sweet missive from our friend Sherry L. Ross.   From Sherry: I'd like to wish everyone a soul-satisfying spring. I know I'm especially in need...