Art

Unihemispheric Sleeper
G. Slonaker

Poem

Ode
M. Dabis

Distilled essence of mighty flower

dark green volatile compound

bursting forth and announcing hope

taking away the old and known

holding me close to the unknown emerging.

How I fear and want this new quality

I cannot grasp just yet. 

Memoir

Footloose, or how to run away to sea
Excerpt; edited for length
Available for purchase
T. Bull

Croatia

“Are they anchored?” I asked my wife, Karina. We were returning to our boat Matilda on our tender. I looked again and said, “That boat’s moving weird.”

In the near distance, I watched a woman come forward to the bow of her boat. She looked down, worry creasing her forehead. She threw her arms into the air and then returned to the helm.

The boat swung around on the anchor chain, jerking suddenly as she motored forward, then in reverse. It stopped, and she walked quickly back to the bow, peering down at the water.

“Maybe she’s just checking that the anchor’s set?” I mused.

“She looks like she’s stuck. Why don’t you go and ask if she wants some help?” asked Karina. “Drop me back at the boat, then you go see if everything’s okay.” Karina knew I wouldn’t be able to relax until I figured out what was happening.

After I dropped her off, I headed over to the troubled sailboat. The woman at the bow watched me warily as I approached. I suspected she was worried I’d tell her off for anchoring too close to my boat.