Tora Estep
Acrylic paint on paper
Response

A Sorry Scoop
By Ash Martins
Inspiration piece

You abandoned us like a stray ice cream scoop
dropped on a picnic table at the park
Sticky, greedy, grubby
hands seeking fresh novelty and adventure elsewhere
leaving sweetness and responsibility far behind

(O! The ants rejoice at such neglect!)

I gather a queer kind of comfort up all around me
and warm myself to the core,
steeped in the beautiful knowledge that
my efforts would never have been enough
I never could have been enough for you

(And so it goes!)

Yet, I am more than you could ever try to stifle,
Because I contain multitudes
and magic, and then some!
But you, you are a neglected,
melty ice cream cone at the park

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Upasana Mitter
“Negative (Black) – Watercolour and Pencil”
Inspiration Piece

Noesis
By KJ Hannah Greenberg
Response

Activity of the nous, that is, intellectual pursuits, seem
Like davits forever reaching for belongings gone adrift.
No cerebral lifeboat ever managed to rescue victims of
Restorative justice; compensation does not perpetually
Right wrongs; sometimes, it amasses irregular messes.

Consider that nonce words would be seen as erotic, new,
Even when priced past multilevel marketing. Ultimately,
It’s what’s cultivated among the youngest denizens that
Counts. No manner of forgery can deliver better results.

By and large, audiences’ verbalized spectacles are loud.
Usually, they avoid shoring up others’ losses instead of
Languishing afraid of recrimination/odd temperaments,
Enough to seed plants or further vulnerable stuffs. Once
Sidelined concepts sprout, they often grow into premises.

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Channie Greenberg
“Access Denied”
Inspiration piece

Just Trippin
By Kamika Cooper
Response

i began a trip
without a destination
or clear direction

criss-crossing highways
navigating one way streets
just looking for you

i looked in churches
and sat at board room tables
often getting lost

craving connection
i went anywhere you said
hoping to be seen

i have traveled far
for a seat at your table
but you don’t want me

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Stefanie A. Shilling
Inspiration piece

Dimpled
By Angi Lewis
Response

Dimpled
like goose pimples on flesh
like the bumps on a dog’s snout
where the whiskers sprout from
like the rind of an orange
or wedge of blue cheese
like the stippled sea
like the dented moon

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Angi Lewis
Inspiration piece

Handle with Care
By Stefanie A. Shilling
Response

it’s forever been true
that the land holds the sea
and there’s no truer feeling
than when your hands hold me

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Quinzee the Artist
“Wade”
Inspiration piece

Submerged
By Darice Marcella Jones
Response

Submerged

The earth was scorched
And I couldn’t bare to look at our seeds

Even though I was well aware of the tall, majestic trees
and nourishing foods they were destined to become

They reminded me of the fire that had warmed us, then sometimes burned too hot, leaving a mix of love and fear in its wake
In our Fire’s presence – comfort and awe
In our Fire’s absence – cold and curiosities

I was too exhausted from running after the fire went out
to take to the air
Although I knew I could fly as a way to breathe anew
When I reached the shores where Adina sang about freaky secrets and king Luther swam around humming in glitter
A wave reached out and grabbed me into its giggly, warm swirl

The waters rocked me back and forth in 5 stages

Closest to the shore was an unbearable blend of shock and denial
Where water spirits sang to me but I could not hear them
They surrounded me touching me, head-to-toe, but I could not feel it
Even energies from other realms moved along all of my senses one-by-one
But I could not process their presence. How could anything at all be present without our Fire?

Embodying my loss, I moved from feeling nothing to filling myself up with hot rage
I became the flame
Touch me if you want, but you may not survive
And why should you when She didn’t?
And why should anything when She didn’t?
I breathed out like a dragon and watched people, animals, plants, and sand dissolve into ash

Then…

I saw her before me like an apparition, shaking her head and She spoke with her usual humor and sarcasm
“So you just gon’ burn everything that’s keeping you alive?”
We locked eyes at the door between this life and the next and burst out laughing
…as though there was no door
No life, no end of life, no fire, no water, no air, no earth, no distance between us
As we had since we were small children all the way up through the day She walked through that door
And hearing Her giggle again – suddenly my rage shifted a bit

Out further from the shore it occurred to me to call on Yemaya
Surely she and her siblings could do something for me and mine
I offered up all of my humblest savings
I offered my skin
My creativity
My voice
My past
and my future
for one more chance to live alongside my first friend on earth
With eyes like mine and mine like hers
But Yemaya’s only reply was the song of the sea
that pushed me out far and deep, with no land visible in any direction
She stopped me from swimming and I floated way out like a buoy adrift
Feeling only her smooth dark brown hands up under my back
She struck no bargain, so her song left me hollow

And hollow became my new best friend
After all, what is depression but the embrace of sadness?
Giving in and letting the hurt have the password to enter
Rewiring your brain for new depths of despair
Even as you hear those who love you calling out, risking themselves to cross the divide
There’s a relief that comes from finally allowing yourself to believe the worst
If it is true then maybe the losses don’t really matter
If it is true then maybe this pain is insignificant
Maybe we’re all just little gnats buzzing around waiting for something bigger than ourselves to smash us to bits
I don’t know when the hand moved from up under my back
Or when I began sinking
But there was something so cool about seeing nothing but blue

Then the seeds floated from out of my pocket and I remembered a promise I made to our flame
To protect them
To make sure they landed in just the right climate for each
To watch them grow into majestic trees
To watch them grow into lush fruits and lavish veggies that would feed our whole family
To sing to them a fire song when they were cold
An earth song when they felt untethered
An air song when they forgot they could fly
And make sure they never drowned oceans of despair
Without thought I swam around gathering them back together
Something about taking one small but vital action
Made me see the path back to living again

Finally, I could feel our fire in the sky beaming at us
A sun
Never absent
Never too far to feel
With us forever
Laughing at me and with me while I replanted our seeds
Laughing at me and with me while I bungled many other things
Laughing at me and with me while I was chased by 5-0
Laughing at me and with me, now, back at the shore.

By Darice Marcella Jones
In the Year of Chinua Achebe © 2023

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Quinzee the Artist
Response

Clay
By Darice Marcella Jones
Inspiration piece

Out front
They called to me from their homes
And asked if I would stand out front
and face the world on behalf of our
Little yellow city in the sky

Me – because since I was small I had been
The eldest of sorts
Not born first, but imbued with the flows
and the codes of the ancient ones

A knowing pounded in my ears and chest
Like a djembe drum
Libation poured into me from the Alkebulan chalice
By my Mother, Charlene of the Nile
And by my Father, Daniel of Kalandula Falls
Water people
Counting on me to absorb, to transform, to decode seed, and nourish and to grow something
new

The townsfolk who called me were wounded inside
In the last round of combined white meteor and blue rain showers, they were bruised
Then again, they were bruised when a faction from Planet 20 came through degrading and stealing from our
beautiful, sensitive people

And though they had asked for me, they no longer trusted life
So they hissed, and insulted my efforts from the safety of their domiciles
And threw marbles onto the path as I walked along
They spit on the ground where I planted seeds, sometimes even running out to dig them up.
Then snickered together when no food grew there
They wrote songs about how clumsy my talks with the neighboring cities were, and how much
better things were before my arrival

And so here I am out front
Trying to remember as my Mother always told me to do
Trying to be be the joy beyond circumstances as my Father always told me to do
Trying to feel the fire placed in my soul by my
Eldest Sister, Donella of Maletsunyane
Listening to the breath
Of the Sisters, the Triad, and all of The Chosen

Here I am striking while the iron is hot
Humming the songs of everlast
Shaping the multi-colored clays of tomorrow
So that our little yellow city can re-emerge as a safe space
And my neighbors who curse me, from the untenable landscape of broken hearts
Can once again learn to trust life
To see their own power, to come outside boldly
And leap into another kind of embrace

By Darice Marcella Jones
In the year of Chinua Achebe © 2023

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Amy Souza
Inspiration piece

City Sponge
By Kathleen Finn Jordan
Response

A big sponge—I slurp up the city
Borne on concrete streets
Shaded by looming skyscrapers
The never-ending hustle and bustle
Slinked into my bloodstream
Inoculating me from all that is dull
early in life.
No sleeping in the city- electricity stealing the night
No seeing the sun – scrapers to the sky snatching the rays
Bridges extend their steely arms whispering COME
Come here. Come now. The pace is rapid dance
Feet bouncing in the rhythms of a neighborhood walkabout
While all kinds of music scent the air lyrics in many languages
It’s the city—engine of all—alive in the busyness of the world
And I—a big sponge – inhale it – always looking up!

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KJ Hannah Greenberg
“Pea Shoots”
Inspiration piece

one song supposedly about a cat (nothing more)(nothing less)
By Upasana Mitter
Response

I’m prone to making cardboard dollhouses.
the summer of 2017, pea shoots lining my mother’s grave
soft sprouts of green, silken petals of white
here grows the apophasis of mine dreams
under buttery yellow afternoons of me stretched out
like a velvet-furred cat, pawing lazily towards the many, many things
that I am supposed to be accomplishing.

dreams, such translucent, flimsy things
stretched out to the point of being torn apart dramatically
altered, into a state of no return, whether due to student
debt that crushes tiny indentations into your flesh, or the
scars that spread like constellations across your skin, or
your constant use of anxiolytics and knitting mittens for your sister’s baby.
but I am a cat. I have no use for such things.

left all alone in the country of such sad things. chewing
hungrily at important paper certificates and homomorphisms.
this will sustain me, this will do for now.

the days unfold in front of me, the fleas dancing on my
skin: I am a cat. I am a cat. I am a cat. I do not look at
the soup cans that have locusts breeding within them, or
the house that keeps coming undone under my feet or
the gentle grooming of the sunlight running its fingers through my fur
telling me everyone other than me knows and believes that it is
going to be alright. the pea shoots reach up to the sky now, stretching

their blooms toward the sun. do you want to hold it too?
do you want to hold it as much as I do?

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.