Wild Greens

There is a great paradox of the universe… the vast distances of space can leave us feeling infinitely small and sick with cosmic loneliness. Or, we look up into the sky, and, implausibly, find connection and deep meaning among the stars and heavenly bodies.

Throughout human existence, we have found patterns among the twinkling lights in the darkness. We have created stories and passed those stories down through generations about the constellations in the night sky. Those stories among the stars have allowed us to navigate the seas, determine the precise time to harvest crops, and share our culture with one another.

And so we asked our community to dream about the cosmos and to share with us what “Celestial” means to them.

We start with tranquil moments in Tim Brey’s poem, “Sitting Still” and Suzanne Lipovsky’s oil painting, “Fragmented Serenity.” Amid the sometimes manic rhythms of our lives, they look at the building blocks of the world and find moments of peace.

Our existence is intertwined in those building blocks, in the atoms of the universe and the stars that die only to became us. Kendall Moore’s poem and original artwork explores the intimacy of this life cycle – the curves and holes of anonymous personhood – the molecules and dust we once were and may become again. Phedra Deonarine’s shimmering eyeshadow and lipstick spaceships dusted across a cardboard canvas reflect on loneliness and nights out.

I. Armwood’s poem, “Anywhere but Here,” considers how challenging it can be to navigate expectations, and that if only we can squeeze our fingers tight enough to hold water as a mirror, we might reflect back the astronomical beauty within ourselves and use it as a portal to the stars. Caroline Tuman’s watercolors portray her “Big Three” astrological signs and find identity among the stars.

The latest “Turtle and Hare” provides a moment of pause, allowing us to consider the inextricable link between time and loss. Lightyears may pass, and yet the cherished moments of loved ones long gone never fade.

“Stardust” by Lisa Molina thrums with heartbeats, blood, and new life cradled in the cosmos of a mother’s womb. In “Gaia Blowing Bubbles," artist Robin Brownfield imagines her daughter as the earth goddess blowing planet bubbles into the solar system.

Malaya Fletcher’s poem, “Fade to night,” draws parallels between myths, the constellations, and her own stories. Night gives way to day, and a fleeting moment of love not meant to be fades, too.

Hayley Boyle’s watercolor mirrors the surreal qualities of sunsets and moonrises, where what’s real can feel more divine than fiction. And we end our issue, only to begin again on this continuum, with Jessica Donahue’s “Our Stars” – for “we never leave, we only change form.”

We’re also expanding our universe here at Wild Greens, as we welcome aboard two new contributing editors to the team. Jacqueline Ruvalcaba will be editing short fiction and Tim Brey is our new music editor.

-Rebecca and Hayley (co-written and constellated together)

My Big Three

by Caroline Tuman

watercolor, canvas

Inspiration: My inspiration is my passion for astrology and how it relates to myself and those around me. I painted the zodiac constellations of my Sun, Moon and Rising signs which are Virgo, Aries, and Aquarius.

mosaic

Methods: cut, glue, grout

Inspiration: Inspired by a photo of my daughter blowing a bubble, I imagined her as Gaia and the bubbles as the planets in our solar system.

Our Stars

by Jessica Donahue