Volume 3, Issue i
Wild Greens 3, no. 01 (November 2022)
Welcome to the November 2022 issue of Wild Greens
This month, we asked you about finding your groove. We here at Wild Greens have certainly found ours, as this edition also celebrates our two year anniversary! We have anniversary treats and surprises coming throughout the month, starting inside this issue with a conversation with the founders of Wild Greens magazine, Rebecca Lipperini (me) and Hayley Boyle. We also have another very special announcement coming this weekend…any predictions?
Madi Morelli’s poem, “Across Cheap Gold Floors” sets the groove with a scene of trust, safety, and familiarity. Finding inspiration in the things our parents say to us, Melissa Lomax’s acrylic on wood “Be Anything” invites us to step into and own our sense of selves.
“Fluidity” by Jessica Donahue explores healing through fluidity and movement. In Myra Chappius’s eagerly-anticipated third installment of “Lost and Found,” Jo follows her intuition to Arizona, letting time pass patiently, giving it space, waiting to meet Ethan. Irina Tall’s drawings in chalk and wax crayon depict a familiar landscape not far from her house.
In Lauren Kimball’s “Beat Bias,” Turtle and Hare try to find their rhythm as bandmates.
In a conversation with the founders of Wild Greens, Lauren Kimball sat down with me and Hayley to talk about the first two years of the magazine and what’s coming next!
“Learning Sunflowers,” a watercolor by Jessica Doble, depicts her first four attempts at a watercolor, showing the way that we change and grow as we practice.
Hannah Chapple’s poem “Furrow and Gouge” takes the grooves of the palm to chart a connection to her grandmother. When writing this poem for Groove, she uncovered a connection to an unfinished draft of a poem about the men in her family and carpentry. That poem, “Sound without Hammer and Anvil is Lost,” is published here as a sister poem. Robin Brownfield’s mosaic “Feelin’ Groovy” sits between the poems. The image of the artist’s son and a sparkling guitar celebrates groove and family.
We end with “New Day” by Melissa Lomax. Melissa used to hand-paint rocks and leave them around her grandmother’s garden. Neighborhood children thought that fairies had visited overnight.
Isn't that just like Wild Greens? We leave marks of our creative selves in unexpected places.
Table of Contents
Wild Greens... Growing Strong!
by Maggie Topel
Across Cheap Gold FloorsFour hours in a movement class, exhausted and glowingTwo people at either endMaking a sort of ringing sound.(instructions to follow, blindly)Sit in the middle of the room,And wait to be swayed.
Blindfolded and breathless from the thrill,A leaf encased in amber, patientStill.Perfectly safe. Entirely blind.
Childlike, trusting the hum in the room.Singing in no words, our own little arias.One voice was lilting, arched. Skilled, soaring, and clear.I was terribly tempted. There was beauty,an overpowering sweetness that was seeping into every corner of the room.I swayed, with the net beneath meMy body finding grooves, footholds in the open air
But the voice on the other side of my blindfold was singing, seeing,something older.It was solid. Simpler, drawn out and endless.I recognized. A snowy pathA well-worn indentWhen I wasn’t afraid of quiet. A childhood dog barking when any man over 5 feet came near me.The voice cradled me and made me small.
The old habit carves its way into me like a groove in a cherrywood tableI crawled to the sound of my past, when the noise didn’t scare me either,And then I ran to it.My love has always been dependent on the warm embrace of familiarity.I hadn’t known either voice, even though I should have.But my body knew.
In every round, low constant tones reverberated the stained glass church panesA delicate sweetness promising a guiding handA warm light.
They sounded like songs from movies we loved as children.
That entrenchment of these little loves, Engrained in the fibres.I know what we crawled for.
FluidityGetting back into your groove Requires you to moveFreelyWith fluidity
Space creates the paceAt which you desireTo set your heart on fire
Fear is a liar
In life, we dance Through its rhythm
Take a chance
Feel the rainLet your body moveAccept the pain
What syncopatesOur saving grace
We come to knowWe run OUR show
Fluidity feelsHow we heal
Lost and Found (part 3)
Finally, as Jo was somehow dozing after all that coffee in the light of a setting sun, her phone pinged. The message from Ethan was brief – an apology for his delay in contacting her and the address of a diner where they could meet for breakfast in the morning. Jo needed only name the time. So, she did, then set a pot of water on the stove to boil. There were two packages of ramen in the cabinet above the fridge, a dish even Jo could make.
Editor's note: Lost and Found will be serialized across six issues. Tune in next month for the fourth installment, and catch up on the first installments if you haven't read them yet.
If you like the issue, you can donate to Wild Greens through our Ko-fi page!
where there is peace
chalk, wax crayons, tinted paper
If you like the issue, you can donate to Wild Greens through our Ko-fi page!
Wild Greens is Where We Grow Our Creative Selves: A Conversation with Rebecca Lipperini and Hayley Boyle
Furrow and GougeMy grandmother etched line drawings on white paper— an eagle poisedin the groove between mountains, wings air wideand reaching— mother and daughter,hands buried deep in dough, learningbread and stories in the home quiet. Your non-dominant hand revealsnatural personality and character,while your dominant hand shows traitsyou choose to practice. My hands are echoes of her hands, twistingyarns into shape, darkening pages with furrow and gouge. My grandmother was well-practiced atsneaking. When she wanted chocolate donuts or scratch-offs, her long grin sweptbright across her face, whispered our secret into the air. Air hands— square palms and long fingers-mean curious, intellectual,if easily distracted. Her hands were like air, palm cuppedto my hairline, fingers dancing through warm bath water,a trace reaching outward always fromher through memory and time. My love line only reaches my middle finger, indicates potential restlessness. Each time I begana new life— answered a call blood-deepthat whispered with her voice—she took my hand in hers,sent her peculiar heirinto the chill light of morning. The depth of a lifeline marks richness of experience.By the end her handswere paper, deep-grooved, my fingerswrapped in pages of her. Losing her cut long across space between us,chill air gone quiet, fallen dark.
A diagonal seam tying life line to sun linesignals inheritance. This furrowspreads deep across each of my hands.
glue, tiles, beads, grout
Inspiration: Inspired by my theatrical, musically talented youngest son, who is groovy (yes, I'm bringing back that word) in everything he does.
Sound Without Hammer and Anvil is LossRaised in the cut-dust of New York maple, knotty pine,the whet scrapeechoes dull like stone on stone,
a cutting edge ground soft with handsshaped like your hands.Learn the word cleave, learn etch,the place steel swallows grain.
Danger follows the cold, where skinchimes against the open air like shattering, achesfor the wood-burning stove, fears the sound of a new blade wearing old.
The workbench edges bowto cup the high hip grooves of men—collect their leanings, carve toward shape, etch where they began.
Blanks spin into becoming, grow legs. Love the way the grain guides fingers,speaks beneath hands. Cutuntil its voice becomes your voice.
Utter “finished” into the colddeparture. Dispossess the thumbprints hiddenin each dark joining. End with cleave,begin with grain again.
See behind the scenes of Wild Greens. Our Ko-fi page contains concept art for past issues.
Artists and Contributors
Madi Morelli (she/her) is a queer woman based out of Toronto who has been writing for just about her entire life, but only recently decided to share it. She has plans to someday publish a romance novel, a book of poems, and a full-length play. She is currently studying creative writing at the University of Toronto School of Continuing Studies and graduated from Randolph College for the Performing Arts in 2019.
Jessica Donahue (she/her) loves the word “heArtist”. Her backgrounds are rooted in dance/movement and performance art coupled with creative community activism, wellness, and collaboration. Jessica’s expression through writing has been a long time outlet that she hopes encourages others to embrace their own voice.
Writer 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, music, travel, and learning. When not doing mom things, she is working full-time, seeing the latest movie, or waiting an acceptable length of time before returning to Universal Orlando to satiate her Harry Potter obsession.
You can follow Myra on Instagram at @inwordform. Her work can be purchased on Amazon.
Irina Tall (Novikova)
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.
Artist and 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.
Hannah Chapple (she/her) is a writer and educator, currently teaching high school English in Atlanta, GA. Her recent poetry appears in Sooth Swarm Journal, DMQ Review, and Ibis Head. A critical chapter, "'The World of Sensible Seasons Had Come Undone': Climate Change and Regional Folklore in Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior," is forthcoming in Wait Five Minutes: Weatherlore in the Twenty-First Century from the University of Mississippi Press. Find Hannah on Twitter and Instagram at @HannahEChapple
Robin Brownfield (she/her) is a former sociology professor in Collingswood, New Jersey who turned to mosaic art after becoming disabled. She was featured in a FOX-29 (Philadelphia) News report, because after sharing a series of award-winning “Black Lives Matter” mosaic portraits online, she was commissioned by Tamika Palmer to do a mosaic portrait of her daughter, Breonna Taylor, whose death, in part, launched a rebirth of the Black Lives Matter movement. That portrait can be seen in the documentary “Bree Way: Promise Witness Remembrance.” Her award-winning artwork has been in galleries in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York City, Las Vegas, Norfolk, Virginia, Texas, Illinois, and San Francisco. She recently finished supervising a community mosaic mural project entitled “Childhood Memories,” which she designed at Thomas Sharp Elementary School in Collingswood, NJ. Above the mural honoring her is a plaque making her one of those old dead people (in the future) who nobody ever heard of, but whose name is on a plaque. Visit her website, www.robinbrownfieldmosaics.com, to see more of her work.
Jacqueline (she/her) is a writer, editor, and copyeditor living in California. She earned her BA in English and creative writing at the University of California, Riverside. She was a 2021 publishing fellow with the Los Angeles Review of Books and an editor and co-editor for PubLab and Mosaic Art and Literary Journal. She serves as the fiction editor for Wild Greens magazine and a copyeditor for the Los Angeles Review of Books and The Arrow Journal.
Maggie Topel (she/her) is an artist and writer living in Philadelphia. She designs our seasonal Wild Greens logo and social media avatar.
Hayley (she/her) creates the cover image for each issue of Wild Greens magazine 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 and wouldn't have it any other way. You can find Hayley on Instagram @hayley3390 or @haypaints. She accepts commissions, and you can find examples of her work on her website.
Rebecca Lipperini (she/her) is a writer, teacher, and academic living in Philadelphia, and the founding editor of Wild Greens magazine (hi!). 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.