The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means that there is a possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek. - Annie Dillard
I was not surprised that many of the submissions for this issue feature nature: rivers, oceans, flowers, insects. Nor was I surprised that the pieces feature people who see themselves as wild. What struck me as I was reading through all the beautiful work is how intertwined those two things are: nature and our bodies, nature and our minds, nature and our spirits. We are dancing or at war, reflecting one another.
Robyn Gill’s The Wild Man looks through the eyes of a boy in search of an adventure, but really in search of answers. Heavy Lifting by Sunshine Barbito sends us rafting down the the Clackamas river, looking for stories; “I don’t make the rules” our speaker says. Jack Zhang comments on our inability to truly capture that which is wild in My Afternoon at Peggy’s. Our poets--Jessica Lao, Grace Kwan, Malvika Manoj, and Yasmine Chokrane–push boundaries of shape and thought.
What really comes through for me in this issue, and I hope comes forth for you too, is the abundance of what our writers have to say. It makes me want to sit in a meadow somewhere, hedges overgrown on all sides, and read.
Per usual, we’re grateful for our writers and readers and look anticipatorily at this wild thing we call a future.
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