Wild Greens

Volume 4, Issue ix


Wild Greens 4, no. 9 (July 2024)


Welcome to the July 2024 issue of Wild Greens

In the words of the great vocalist and composer Jazzmeia Horn: “Free your mind. / And let your thoughts expand.” Welcome to the Expanse issue of Wild Greens.

There’s nowhere better to begin exploring the origin of our expanse than “Apple Pie,” a poem by Amy Nanette Glin about the beginning of creation.

Rachel Coyne’s “Incursion” in acrylics disarranges perspective of scale. Are these vast nebulae or tiny microbes?

“Glass Waters,” a poem by Holly Rose, inspired by Sylvia Plath’s poem “Crossing the Water,” explores themes of rebirth and reincarnation. “Fly Agarics” in watercolor and ink by Angela Patera portrays these small mushrooms, and reflects on the mycelial network that extends for thousands of miles unseen beneath the soil.

In “Desperado Dreaming,” a short story by Ian C Smith, life’s possibilities open before the main character. In “Expanse,” the first of two collages by Maria Pianelli Blair, the artist explores the curiosity that comes from broadening our perspective beyond our small roles in the great expanse of it all. In Bart Edelman’s poem “Above it All,” the speaker considers their purpose in life. “I am…” in collage and ink by Irina Tall (Novikova) depicts a variety of faces like masks.

Ping Yi’s poem “For a New Canticle” was inspired by the rewilding of a 19th century colonial railroad near the poet’s home. “Abstraction” in acrylics by Cyrus Carlson plays on the relationship between distraction and attention. “Afghanistan or the bush,” a short story by Doug Jacquier, portays the character-testing environmental expanses of Australia, its devastating droughts and floods.

“The World at Large,” the second of two collages by Maria Pianelli Blair was created to honor the vast worlds that books create in our minds.

“Rewilding the Living,” a poem by Carole Cloud, appeals for a new hope of environmental healing.

Melissa Lomax’s “Garden Study” and “Greenhouse Study” in wax oil pastel, watercolor, and colored pencil are inspired by the summer, a season when the artist spends time outside and brings along her art supplies. “X Pants,” a new Turtle and Hare from artist Lauren Kimball, gives us an epic dad joke.

Lie back in the grass on a perfect July day. With your head between your hands, stare at the expanse above you. The boundless sky. The curve of the horizon. This beautiful earth that we share above and below, beneath the soil, deep in the water and in the woods. There is an expanse of possibilities, of choices that lay before any one of us!


If you like the issue, you can donate to Wild Greens through our Ko-fi page!

Apple Pie

by Amy Nanette Glin

Carl Sagan said, “If you wish to make
an apple pie
from scratch
you must first invent
the universe.”

He’s right you know. Scratch — the unencumbered

Underneath everything is something

The beginning?

A strike anywhere match dragged along the flint 
of time.
Igniting creation.


by Rachel Coyne


Inspiration: I like the way the painting could be vast star bodies or small bacteria. 

Glass Waters

by Holly Rose

Glass skinned, sitting side by side,We cut the silken still,As the bow of our penny boatSplits the world in two.
This skin is not my first,But it is comfortable, for now,And as the sunlight filters through watery peaks,It presses warm along my every bump and ridge,To mingle with my freckles.
Your oar cracks between the ice,Paddle pushing beneath the frozen scab,Like the shell of a runny egg - break.And the sugar wood - your spoon.With only the mountains to bear witness,The yolk spills into the boat,Coating our legs in possibilities.
Sisyphus; our boat bobs on its constant crossing, Rolling summits flaked in snow,And as you catch them on your worldly tongue,You invite planets into your platelets,A culture nestled on each untouched drift;Swallow.
We lift our chins, our eyelids wide,The passing stars peppered like pinpricksOf spattered light through bolts of black,And suddenly we are nuzzled in our bedsheets,The blankets never-ending,Cocooned inside the womb,And black and white waters alike are consuming usPreserving usRemaking usLimb, by limb, by limbAs we make the world anew.

Fly Agarics

by Angela Patera

Watercolors, ink, aquarelle paper

Inspiration: The mycelial network is an underground web that connects plants and trees, providing nutrients and serving as a mode of communication. Mycelium (the unseen parts of mushrooms) would extend for hundreds or even thousands of miles if they could be stretched end-to-end.

Desperado Dreaming

by Ian C Smith

They bought a second-hand caravan with annexe, canvas cots, folding chairs. On weekend trial runs he, his wife, children, and dog, camped on the green fringes of outer suburbs where he obstinately tackled crosswords trying to self-educate. Those unspoiled spots are now grids of streets occupied by the following generations of hopeful families. Practised, they booked their first summer holiday at Emerald Lake. An ornamental body of shallow water under a dwarfing sky with no fish, no tide, nor flow, overlapping laughter, a nonstop hubbub of splashes, shrieks, and sunburn, was sublime for their youngsters.

An escapee from a love-starved childhood, he rented an unheated room in a stained-brick city, a stark haven where the cracked light fitting trembled each time a train’s rumble reverberated below him. Tyres whirred along bleak streets with an acrid odour: petrol, rust, coal smoke, and cold damp soil, the air often the hue of impending storms. Still a juvenile, he would smack his alarm clock off when it woke him early for hated low-paid drudgery. Sometimes he would be late after drifting back into further escapism, sumptuous dreams.

They had scrimped to buy the cheapest block on their monotonous new streets of suburban sprawl. A lone tree on their site, a mature pine, was spared when their area was cleared for housing, so, copying observed parenting, he attached a plastic swing to a lower bough. From bricks left by the builders half-buried in hardened clay he constructed a barbecue by guesswork that did its job before eventually splitting. He also wondered about his unfathomable dreams, and what his future self would think of the heft of all this when he lay dying.

Before that holiday, flushed with accomplishment after replacing his car’s worn-out brakes to save labour costs, he had started a new job a little awed by his audacity following a trial after applying with no experience or training. At their lakeside berth he rose early, the campground’s silence ethereal. Finished reinflating floatable toys, he drove in burgeoning light, elbow out the window, the extra miles to the mill, traffic sparse at first, singing along to his radio remembering street kid days’ wretched loneliness. He couldn’t know that freedom of the road’s thrill one day when they would set off to drive hundreds of miles on a real adventure.

He found that rented room after living like a desperado on criminality’s razor’s edge when he slept in an empty skip, lighting candles in the remembering time before sleep’s merciful escape, toes frostbitten. Once he succumbed without snuffing out that precious wax. While stars kept their watchful silence flames flickered, burning, bowing, burning, refusing to die. Why he loved recalling that night in the candlelit darkness was the dream blessing him. He swam through a blossoming sea, the sky festooned with blazing fireworks.

Their holiday nearing its end, he arrived at the lake after work, parking in the usual shade. In his ticking Ford with its damaged mudguards, the dent from whiskey once, the scrape from teaching himself how to reverse the caravan, its hot familiar smell mingled with expensive takeaway food’s aroma. He rolled a smoke watching thunderclouds signalling a change. Going over his planned family announcement of his major work promotion, a responsible post, he imagined the coming rain washing clean only the harsher elements of past struggle. Feeling safer now, he hoped life continued being one trial run after another. His flight from school and home was half his lifetime ago then. He was twenty-eight years old.


by Maria Pianelli Blair

Analog collage, vintage images from midcentury books and magazines

Inspiration: I turned 30 last year and, since then, have noticed how my perspective on the universe has changed. While I am the main character in my own life, I've grown humble about my minuscule role in the world at large—equal parts in awe at the complexities of the people, communities, and landscapes around me, and eager to explore and understand them. This piece is an exploration of the expansion of my perspective, as well as an acknowledgment of how wide, diverse, and wonderful the world really is. 

Above it All

by Bart Edelman

The same dangling feelingAbove it all—Circling again and again,Adrift on fluttering wings,This curious flight of mine.
Can’t grasp, for certain,How I first left the ground,Began my constant hovering—One destination after another.
But now I’m ready to stop.Pray for a soft landing,Whenever the time arrives,And  finally touch earth.
Yes, I’ll regain my residence,Cease these observations.From a distance so safeI can’t see a single face.Who even knows I’m up here.

I am...

by Irina Tall (Novikova)

Ink, gel pen, gouache paper, collage 

Inspiration: Sometimes the chasms are too big to cross and so bridges need to be built.

For a New Canticle

by Ping Yi

The TV flickers, a gritty unreal showsome ex-paratrooping red-beret CEOhacking at coconuts with bespoke knife,distilling deeds into confessional ismswhile smoke from the wild rat brisketwafts by the drone lens panning out.Home is a rustic resort away, diesel jalopyscooping up survivors and crewafter camera and lights wink off.
Living through a survivalist realityof epidemics and pandemics, enduringevery minute of time emulsified,Covid but a latest salvo fromNature flexing in the Anthropocenewith nothing more than feedbackloops and system dynamics.Home manifests where we areisolated, locked down, petrifiedas the music slams into silence.
The scribes write of wars in the human arc– precious few survive who lived them;we touch the memorials and wardspress the whorls of our fingers intotroughs of every name called into stone,light candles and incense in votive absolution.Home becomes where they lieinterred, absorbed, returned to sanctuary.
We face calamity fathomless, untold– where are tomorrow’s scouts bornthe wayfinders and pathmakers,readers of ecological entrailsspeakers for the future living?Home is our diversity and unityin instinct, skill, and historyas we reach for a new rhythm,seeking a new dancewith this hallowed gray earth.


by Cyrus Carlson


Inspiration: My small abstract pieces command moments of attention in a distracted world.

Afghanistan or the bush

by Doug Jacquier

Jack came home between tours in Afghanistan to find the living ghost of his father and an exhausted Uncle Joe. The longest drought in the region had stripped them of their reserves of hard-bitten resolve. The land had become a dustbowl, and creeks that no one had ever seen dry were now cracked mud tracks.

After the last big drought, a raft of politicians and bureaucrats visited for photo opportunities and promised dams, bores, and low interest bank loans. But like the rain, these things never came, and after a few weeks, the drought disappeared from the television. 

This time, the bank refused to help, and the pittance of government drought relief couldn’t hope to cover their costs. Their stock, carefully bred over generations, had been sent to the slaughter yards. There was nothing left to sell, including the now virtually worthless land itself. The plain Jack grew up on was now dotted with derelict houses and sheds. 

One afternoon, Jack and Uncle Joe returned from some optimistic fence-mending to find Jack’s father face down in the shed, his shotgun by his side. It was over.

When Uncle Joe collapsed in shock and, after a few days in hospital, passed away in his sleep, the foundations that had started to crumble for Jack in Afghanistan finally mixed with the relentless dust of the farm. 

He wasn’t going back to the Army, and he was certain he was never going to find his way back to anything he recognised as himself. He was permanently damaged goods, who barely slept and interacted with as few people as possible. He continued to exist for reasons that became less clear with each day; life was a biological condition, not a state of humanity.

He abandoned packing to return to base and looked at the peeling papered walls and the chipped brown furniture and then out to the barren landscape. In a daydream, he calculated the possibilities that a payout from the Army would last him long enough to take a chance on the drought breaking next year. “Idiot,” he said out loud. 

The bottom line was he wasn’t going back to the Army but the trail to somewhere else had long disappeared.

Then it began to rain. The rain came in sideways, driven by the same scouring winds that had delivered the dust from farms hundreds of miles away for so many summers now and sent their own on a similar journey. 

Jack hoped there was enough to drown out his despair at fly-blown carcasses in the paddocks, 100-year-old trees falling like matchsticks and harvesters rusting in sagging sheds (because these days real seeds only produced phantom crops). 

He whispered prayers that the rain would trigger flash flooding and wash out the roads and cut off the power; that was pain he could gladly endure.

The World at Large

by Maria Pianelli Blair

Analog collage, vintage ephemera from midcentury magazines

Inspiration: As a kid, I spent much of my time with my nose buried in books. This piece is a homage to how reading expands one's mind, empathy, and curiosity about the world around them.

Rewilding the Living

by Carole Cloud

It is said that for millions of years, Sequoia sempervirens,the old-growth redwoods, relied on each other to live and die, decay, rebirth, decay again. Can we too like the old growth rejoin the living and dying
Rewild the living, wilder the wilderness,this understory of red and green huckleberryblackberry, salmonberry, thimbleberry, ascoastal fog drips from the trees onto the forest’s floor
Where black bears roamed through the old treeseating berries and larvae dug from the earth long before they haunted our towns, tallshadows at dusk, pawing through trash to findwhat belonged to them before we replacedit with cardboard pizza, soggy donuts melting
Can we wilder the living, strengthen the winds,the rains, the storms that replenish our rivers, so our grizzlies can gorge again on spawning salmon, pluck them from the icy water, catch them withtheir paws as they jump up, out of the water 
It is said that bears could tear holes in a termite mound, push their noses inside, inhale a meal in secondslong before the flames we lit licked at their dens, at the soft underbrush they gathered to ease their days and nights of hibernation, all of their work turned to kindling for firestorms that leapt tall as skyscrapers, churning their homes into charcoal-sparked skies thick with ash
Can we rewild the forests with driving rainsand summer storms moisten the earth,the coastline graying with a blanket of fogdrawn from the ocean by summer’s heat,a shroud that drips down sloping branches onto the forest floor, can we rewild the wildlife
The common red vixen who has learned the secretsof living among humans, can we help her find
her way back over the roads through 
towns and trees to her kits, and the cloven-hoofed deer, who look up from grazing, can we build them a path over our swollen highways so they can migrate and breed without self-sacrifice
Appeal to the moon to change the tides beforeoceans lap up our homes as if made of matchsticks, sofas and carpets and memories, photos and booksswirling down and down, sinking and breaking into sand and rust, crashing, receding, crashing, pounding below the cliffs, can we humble ourselves before the land, rewild the wilderness to live again.

Garden Study and Greenhouse Study

by Melissa Lomax

Wax oil pastel, watercolor, and colored pencil

Inspiration: At this time of year I spend a ton of time outside and often bring my art supplies with me. These two pieces were inspired by some of our recent hikes and local garden admiring! I have also been enjoying the tactile nature of mixed media by layering wax oil pastels, colored pencils, and watercolors.

Read about the inspiration for this month's logo on Ko-Fi.

X Pants

by Lauren Kimball

Digital stylus

Inspiration: Inspired by our Dad, Bill Kimball, and our four year old niece Amelia.

Artists and Contributors

Amy Nanette Glin


Amy Nanette Glin has lived an unconventional life that includes managing comedians, cooking for celebrities and priests, and telling stories on stages. She recently published her first novel, G.O.D., now available on Amazon. Her work has appeared in The Commonline Journal, Three Line Poetry, and The Mountain Astrologer, among others. Aside from writing, Amy is a trauma-informed life coach—assisting people in unraveling the belief systems that don’t serve them. Amy wants everyone to know what’s possible! You can find her at www.amyglin.com or amyglincoaching on Instagram.

Rachel Coyne


Rachel Coyne is a writer and painter from Lindstrom, MN. Her books include The Patron Saint of Lost Comfort Lake and the Antigone Ravyn Chronicles.

Holly Rose


Holly Rose (she/her) is a poet and aspiring author from Northamptonshire, England. Her work has been published here, in Wild Greens, as well as in ERA magazine. It has also been longlisted for the Mslexia flash fiction prize. When not writing, Holly can be found reading in her hammock with an iced latte. You can find her on Instagram @holly.rosebooks

Angela Patera


Angela Patera is a published writer, artist, and poet. Her short stories and poems have appeared in publications such as Livina Press, Myth & Lore Zine, Rill and Grove Poetry Journal, and more. Her art has appeared in numerous publications, as well as on the cover of Selenite Press, Penumbra Online, Monster Mag, and Apothecary Journal. When Angela isn't creating, she likes to spend time outside in nature.

You can find her on both Twitter/X and Instagram @angela_art13 

Ian C Smith


Ian C Smith’s work has been published in BBC Radio 4 Sounds, Cable Street, The Dalhousie Review, Gargoyle, Griffith Review, Honest Ulsterman, Southword, and Stand.  His seventh book is wonder sadness madness joy (Ginninderra Press). He writes in the Gippsland Lakes area of Victoria, and on Flinders Island.

Maria Pianelli Blair


Maria Pianelli Blair is a multidisciplinary artist based in New Jersey. Her collages, fashioned on everything from cardboard to playing cards, marry contemporary imagery, found vintage materials, and magical realism. Maria's work can be found on Instagram (@sunset_sews) and Etsy. She has been published in Contemporary Collage Magazine, FEELS Zine, Photo Trouvee Magazine, Moss Puppy, and Chill Mag, among other publications. Her work has been featured in both galleries and virtual exhibitions, including Vayo Collage Gallery in Lyons, NY and Brassworks Gallery in Portland, OR.

Bart Edelman


Bart Edelman’s poetry collections include Crossing the Hackensack (Prometheus Press), Under Damaris’ Dress (Lightning Publications), The Alphabet of Love (Red Hen Press), The Gentle Man (Red Hen Press), The Last Mojito (Red Hen Press), The Geographer’s Wife (Red Hen Press), Whistling to Trick the Wind (Meadowlark Press), and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993 – 2023 (Meadowlark Press).  He has taught at Glendale College, where he edited Eclipse, a literary journal, and, most recently, in the MFA program at Antioch University, Los Angeles.  His work has been widely anthologized in textbooks published by City Lights Books, Etruscan Press, Fountainhead Press, Harcourt Brace, Longman, McGraw-Hill, Prentice Hall, Simon & Schuster, Thomson/Heinle, the University of Iowa Press, Wadsworth, and others. He lives in Pasadena, California. You can find him on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bart.edelman.1 and on his website: https://www.bartedelman.com

Irina Tall (Novikova)


Irina Tall (Novikova) is an artist, graphic artist, and illustrator. She graduated from the State Academy of Slavic Cultures with a degree in art. She also has a Bachelor's Degree in design.

Her first personal exhibition, "My soul is like a wild hawk," (2002), was held in the Museum of Maxim Bogdanovich. In her works, she raises themes of ecology, including a series of works in 2005 that she devoted to the Chernobyl disaster. She also draws on anti-war topics for inspiration. The first big series she drew was The Red Book, dedicated to rare and endangered species of animals and birds. She writes fairy tales and poems, as well as illustrates short stories. She draws various fantastic creatures: unicorns, animals with human faces, and images of the human/bird called a Siren. In 2020, she took part in Poznań Art Week. Her work has been published in magazines such as Gupsophila, Harpy Hybrid Review, Little Literary Living Room, and others. In 2022, her short story was included in the collection "The 50 Best Short Stories," and her poem was published in the poetry collection, "The wonders of winter."

Ping Yi


Ping Yi writes poetry, travelogues, fiction, and is in public service. His work has appeared in Litro, London Grip, Dreich, Meniscus, La Piccioletta Barca, Sideways, Vita Poetica, Poetry Breakfast, among others, and is forthcoming in ONE ART, Harbor Review, Rising Phoenix Review and The Prose Poem. Ping Yi is from Singapore, and has lived in Boston, MA, and Cambridge, UK. You can find him @pyyee10 on Instagram and Facebook, or @pyyee on Twitter/X.

Doug Jacquier


Doug Jacquier writes from the Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia. His work has been published in Australia, the US, the UK, Canada, New Zealand, and India. He blogs at Six Crooked Highways and is the editor of the humour site, Witcraft.

Cyrus Carlson


Cyrus Carlson is an abstract artist from the Midwest. You can find them on Instagram: @abstractcy08.

Carole Cloud


Carole received her MFA in creative writing from UNC Greensboro where she studied with poet Fred Chappell. Her work has been published in the Greensboro Review, Coraddi, Row2K, and the Drexel Online Journal. One of her stories was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Two of her plays were produced in new plays festivals in the San Francisco Bay Area. She is passionate about wildlife survival and the conscious care of our biosphere. Humans continue to crowd out other species and other cultures—infringing on their spaces, behaviors, and viability—instead of learning to share this earth we need to care about.

Melissa Lomax


Melissa Lomax (she/her) is a freelance illustrator, writer, and cartoonist, with 20 years of experience in the creative industry. Some of her clients include American Greetings, Sellers Publishing, Great Arrow Graphics, Lenox Corporation, and Highlights for Children. Her comic 'Doodle Town' posts on GoComics.com, the largest catalog of syndicated cartoons and comics. When she is not in the art studio, she enjoys spending time in nature, drinking really good coffee, and 'everyday adventures' with her husband. Pop by her Instagram @melissalomaxart for weekly inspiration!

Lauren Kimball

Artist and Writer

Lauren Kimball (she/her) lives in Philadelphia. She teaches literature and composition at Rutgers University-New Brunswick. In her spare time, she plays with paint, digital pens, words, and home improvement tools.

You can find her comics on Instagram @turtle_n_hare_comic.

Jessica Doble

Poetry Editor

Jessica Doble (she/her) holds a PhD in English from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. She's published two critical works: “Hope in the Apocalypse: Narrative Perspective as Negotiation of Structural Crises in Salvage the Bones” in Xavier Review, and “Two-Sides of the Same Witchy Coin: Re-examining Belief in Witches through Jeannette Winterson’s The Daylight Gate” in All About Monsters. Her poetry has appeared in PubLab and Wild Greens magazine. 

Myra Chappius

Poetry Editor and Copyeditor

Myra Chappius (she/her) is the author of six works of fiction and poetry. While her passion lies with shorter creations, it is her aspiration to complete a full-length novel and screenplay someday. She enjoys reading, running, cinema, music, and seeing the world. When not doing mom things, she is working full-time, learning a new language, and planning her next trip. 

You can follow Myra on Instagram at @inwordform. Her work can be purchased on Amazon.

Tim Brey

Music Editor

Tim Brey (he/him) is a jazz pianist living in Philadelphia. He holds positions as Artist-in-Residence and Adjunct Faculty at Temple University and The University of the Arts, where he teaches jazz piano, music theory, and improvisation. Check out more of his music and his performance schedule at https://www.timbreymusic.com.

Jacqueline Ruvalcaba

Senior Editor

Jacqueline (she/her) edits fiction and nonfiction as the senior editor for Wild Greens magazine. She earned her BA in English and creative writing at the University of California, Riverside, and completed training as a 2021 publishing fellow with the Los Angeles Review of Books. She previously served as a co-editor for PubLab, editor for UCR's Mosaic Art and Literary Journal, and as an intern with Soho Press. In her free time, she loves to read all kinds of stories, including YA, literary fiction, sci-fi, and fantasy.

Maggie Topel


Maggie Topel (she/her) is an artist and writer living in Philadelphia. She designs our seasonal Wild Greens logos and social media avatar.

Hayley Boyle

Arts Editor

Hayley (she/her) creates the cover image for each issue of Wild Greens and serves as the Arts Editor. Hayley is a social justice seeker, world traveler, rock climber, dog snuggler, frisbee player, event planner, and storyteller. She loves to paint with watercolors, embroider, and write. She grew up reading sci-fi and fantasy, and to this day she still turns to those genres to help her make sense of the world. She calls Philadelphia home where she lives with her partner Evan and her dog Birdie, and she wouldn't have it any other way. You can find Hayley on Instagram @hayley3390.

Rebecca Lipperini


Rebecca Lipperini (she/her) is a writer, teacher, and academic living in Philadelphia, and the founding editor of Wild Greens magazine. She holds a PhD in English from Rutgers University, where she taught all kinds of classes on literature and poetry and writing, and wrote all kinds of papers on the same. Her essay on the soothing aesthetics of the supermarket was recently published in PubLab. She teaches in the Critical Writing Program at the University of Pennsylvania.

You can find Rebecca on Instagram @rebeccalipperini (personal) @wildgreensmag (you already know it).