Letters from the Editors

Found from other letters from the editors, poems  and miscellaneous sources

We can’t be sure, but it seems that things around the world are getting weird. Have you felt it?

The proud can still be proud but find it a little harder.

In these times of economic uncertainty, what we are seeing consistently — especially in America’s most urban areas — is a return to the arts. The act of creation scares the hell out of those who fear change.

We need to triangulate, find someone to show.

Writing is a fundamentally dangerous activity. I mean, just one dissonant note in an otherwise consonant piece of music can open entirely new vistas, at least if you’ve grown used to the consonance. It is like the bird flu, except it’s the word flu. Share the source and spread the contagion.

We are, one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

The work is a tremendous distillation of the hundreds of poems that were submitted. They take us from one place to another, and even if the distance is slight, it’s significant because something beyond ourselves has moved us.

No meaning but what we find here. No purpose but what we make.

We thank the many who submitted their work. We apologize for the uncertainty. We’re also, of course, pleased.

You must come closer to find out.

Jenni B. Baker
Founder, Editor-in-Chief


Writing, as people always say, can be a lonely business.

So, why are we here? Why are we doing this? In retrospect, we were looking for something to read. We wanted to always be looking outward, and to convene with writers who are determined to witness the world.

I am fortunate to have discovered a friend –

to read along with her, to agree and disagree with her –

who makes writing and reading less lonely, and it is my hope that other readers like me will find this journal, to read with us, to be included in the conversation.

In putting together this issue, we were working toward no overriding themes. But reading the poems, you’ll discover how the pieces fit together, and you’ll see the shapes and patterns they form.

They do speak to one another.

Art does not exist in a void.

Maybe it’s true – when going out to witness the world, we each leave something behind. But then we pick up mittens dropped by others, we play a piece of music in a different key, we find what is laid behind the music, we attempt to get a better communion with the original. We are not – and should not try to be – isolated.

These poems reflect fragments of life, moments, people. Yet these translators, retrieving original content into another language, do not make themselves excused.

It’s all proof that the creative cauldron is still bubbling.

We’re finally ready to share the Fall 2011 issue. We think you’ll like it.

Beth Ayer

Senior Poetry Editor





Comments are closed.