(When Elements Collide) Alexandra Mazzola is a chronically disabled creative artist who enjoys painting, drawing, and writing. She wishes to become an art therapist someday, working with the youth and adults with disabilities, to help them overcome their struggles and feel hope and strength. Her passion and purpose in life is to make everyone she meets smile and feel loved. Wherever she goes in life, she brings her big heart and positive personality, in hopes to make others feel true happiness.
(Organic Bananas) Marissa is a visual artist that finds excitement in everyday environments and material. Her artwork elevates the ordinary and allows items to be seen for something other than their original function. Marissa graduated with her MFA from Brigham Young University and now shares her love of art with her own students.
by Marissa Albrecht
Marissa is a visual artist that finds excitement in everyday environments and material. Her artwork elevates the ordinary and allows items to be seen for something other than their original function. Marissa graduated with her MFA from Brigham Young University and now shares her love of art with her own students.
by Madeline Rupard
Madeline Rupard is an artist and educator. Born in Utah and raised on the East Coast, she grew up moving frequently around different parts of the U.S. and traveling across long distances. She paints pictures to describe the overwhelming sensory effect of the modern American landscape and the experience of moving through spaces.
by Phyllis Green
Phyllis Green is an author, playwright, and artist. Her art can be found at ArLiJo 123, Gulf Stream magazine, Novus, New Plains Review, and soon in CALYX, Aji, I 70 Review, Rip Rap, and Cinematic Codes Review.
by Elizabeth Tervo
“The Fall of the Albatross” by Sydnie Poulsen
With apologies to Giorgi Lobjanidze and to Rumi
“Our knowledge is but borrowed.
It is a problem for our souls,”
wrote a poet in a faraway language
translating an even farther away language
which is the tissue of fairytales: I will never know it.
So I read it wrong and I understood instead:
“our souls are but borrowed,
they are stolen.”
In the gap between one language and the next language
is a mystery, so I sat down to write.
Later that day I was standing
between one stone and the next stone,
on the wet green grass in the cemetery
and the borrowed souls milled around in my mind.
We waited while her body was lowered
then we did not know what to do, because
they never fill in the earth while we are there—why?
Please, do it, cover her up, keep her safe.
I turned away and saw the hearse in the line of cars
and I thought, it is waiting for her,
to take her back to the church and then home.
She will need to rest, such an old lady.
Idiot! I saw her go into the ground myself.
She is not going anywhere.
We came to the cemetery, today, with her,
and the flowers, and the tears, and the crowd
exactly on purpose to leave again without her.
The uterus is the hearse
that carries us into this world
and leaves again, empty.
We like to stand up and call our souls “ours,”
but we are only borrowed.
In the gap between the one darkness
and the next darkness is a mystery, color, life.
Elizabeth Scott Tervo is a Presvytera, or Greek Orthodox priest’s wife, at St Sophia Church in Washington State. She has published poetry and stories in the New Haven Review, the Wheel, the Basilian and other journals. Her memoir The Sun Does Not Shine Without You, about the time she spent as an exchange student on the eve of the breakup of the USSR, came out in 2021 in the country of Georgia by Azri publishers.
(Art) The photographer wanted to depict the moment in Coleridge’s famous poem Rime of the Ancient Mariner, where the albatross is shot; this action in the poem prompts a chain of events, and this photograph captures the haunting effects of the tale. This ballerina is draped in a shroud, like a ghost, representing the death of the bird and the tragedy of the loss of innocent life.
by Isaiah Rubio
“caves” by Janessa Lewis
He rode The Beast. She walked miles.
On The Beast, he said, I saw a man fall off
to the tracks. Just gone. She set off
from a small village in Jalisco at 15, said,
I was the only girl there. All the other people
were men. But there was one older gentleman.
He took care of me and made sure
I was protected. Once, he got caught
and was sent back to his village in Oaxaca.
He said he’d try it one more time.
He held onto that Beast
until he abandoned it. In Reedley,
they found work in those endless fields.
He was already in a relationship
when we met, she said, but they eventually separated.
30 years later, with three sons, she reflects:
When we got close to the border,
we told each other ‘Good-byes’ and ‘good lucks.’
I never saw the older gentleman again. At a stop
and inspection, he hid in a shipping container:
I saw the officer with his flashlight
looking around. I swear to God, he flashed his light
on me and he saw me, eye to eye,
but he kept looking until he left. In that silence,
he waited until the Beast roared and moved again.
Isaiah Rubio is studying poetry in the MFA program at Brigham Young University.
(Art) Janessa Lewis was born in 1998 and is from Springville, Utah. While receiving her BFA from Brigham Young University, Lewis has been in several group exhibitions. She makes work that revolves around the human experience with land and how the earth is transforming. The earth is the common thread that weaves between nations, cultures, and communities, tying individuals together through shared experience and a foundation of empathy. Through visual symbols and imagery often seen in land, she communicates ideas around the themes of memory and place, pain and growth, and our relationships with humans and deity. Lewis gravitates toward painting, drawing, and printmaking techniques.