Volume 2, Issue xii
Wild Greens 2, no. 12 (October 2022)
Welcome to the October 2022 issue of Wild Greens
October is the first real month of fall in Philadelphia. It’s also the end of the year and the last edition of our second volume here at Wild Greens. There’s a chill in the air, and we’re feeling a bit “Haunted.”
Holly Genovese, inspired by Emily Dickinson, writes of the end of summer in her poem “for the after.” Holly’s collage explores grief as “Flight.” Natalie R. Quiles’s poem “marigold love,” the first of two poems by Natalie in the issue, is about the loss of her grandmother, and the need to hold on to the haunting of grief to keep the person you lost close.
In part 2 of Myra Chappius’s serialized story “Lost and Found,” we pick up with Jo on her way to Arizona, haunted by memories of her lost friendship with Ethan, and curious as to what will come next. The memory of a “faded” high school romance is the subject of Rebecca Samuelson’s poem: “writing initials / together on a quad wall / in borrowed black sharpie.”
The second movement of “Haunted” lives up to the name. Chloe Coblentz’s watercolor and colored pencil “Hollow” brings gothic romance novels to life with all the tropes we love to see: the house, the white dress, the fallen leaves. Sam Ken’s oil on canvas, “Cherub” depicts another well-loved horror image, the cemetery cherub. Angie Cosey, in her adventure short story “A Tale from the Crypt,” writes a gothic backstory for another favorite character… I will leave it to you to discover which one.
“Creepy Cork Peeps” by Melissa Lomax uses champagne corks to make tiny people. (Special side note! Handcrafts has been a huge part of Wild Greens but lately we haven’t been receiving as much. We are so excited to share “Creepy Cork Peeps” with you, and to invite you to send more handcrafts for Volume 3!)
In Lauren Kimball’s newest Turtle and Hare, the bunny FBI investigates a haunted house.
Last, we have the haunting of anger, of cages, of fear.
To enjoy the final part of the issue, listen to Tim Brey’s song “Hunted.” Listen with headphones, and picture yourself in a vast and barren field in the dusk moments before night has fully arrived.
Robin Brownfield’s “I Was” explores the haunting of being silenced, of the loss of one’s voice. Natalie's second poem “America the—” grieves the loss of faith in our institutions, and our fury at their betrayal.
The leaves are falling, and fall is fleeting. This month, we are all haunted.
for the aftersummer—we have all seen
the dread, normalcy haunts—
a break from life, a life we wish we didn't need a break from
the unwanted hug: cloying, unrelenting, holding tight
all consuming heat, soothed only by the pool, the ocean, the ice packs on my neck
on the farm—a long dead dream,
(the plywood swing—-the 200 year old tree—- the fields for horses running and—-for little girls reading—- the burn of the concrete on bare feet)
but always summer’s true north— the last gasp of strawberries destined for pies—
for us and the after
acrylic, acrylic markers
Inspiration: This piece is inspired by haunting, death, and grief as flight. Contrasting the images of living women who I find inspiring with an image of 'the girl with the green ribbon' I try to evoke the duality of flight, of life, of haunting.
marigold lovemy hometown feels too small to hold me, but it’s the only place I can bear to exist in this mourning.
where can I store my love for you? It is sitting behind my eyelids and threatens to burst over the trembling ledge of my lower lashes.
I keep finding you in the birds, or in the shade of marigold that is my favorite t-shirt. I see your smile in the sun bouncing off this car hood. In the way this cabinet closes shut slowly, snugly, softly.
where do I put my love for you? no one tells you this. we do the best we can, storing them in old cans and cracked mugs, crumpling our loving and our missing in gum wrappers and shoving them into our pockets. To contain is to control, but
my love for you is a handful of wasps that refuse to be contained. my love for you buzzes and stings, seeks the sweetness of spilled soda, craves the bright heat of the afternoon sun.
maybe I only know how to love as a yellow, angry thing. maybe I can only love you as an other, as a flying this.
come, meet me in the sky.
Lost and Found (part 2)
Editor's note: Lost and Found will be serialized across six issues. Tune in next month for the third installment, and catch up on the first installment if you haven't read it, yet.
fadedremember when the greatestact of love was writing initialstogether on a quad wall inborrowed black sharpiepermanence eluded due to rainfall excessive leaning at lunchpaint covered in one fell swoop
years later curiosity overtakingthe red orange slides revisitedscrawls from a mideveningunder observant eyes only existin memory cards from digitalcameras that no longer turn ondespite multiple attempts
what are the parameters for lovequalifications if passenger seatswere still a legal requirement doesit count on the invisible abacusintertwined fingers scraping queriesinto the bulges of textured buildingswhat to do with all these markers?
watercolor and colored pencil on hot-pressed paper
8x10 oil on canvas
A Tale from the Crypt
Creepy Cork Peeps
acrylic paint on champagne corks
Inspiration: October is a very inspirational time of year for my husband Patch and I! As a creative couple, we love to encourage and support each other. During one of our long walks together, Patch said, “Don't champagne corks remind you of little people?” And from that magical remark, 'Corks Peeps' were born! I've created these for many occasions and holidays, but the Halloween 'Creepy Cork Peeps' are definitely one of my FANGvorites!
If you like the issue, you can donate to Wild Greens through our Ko-fi page!
The Haunted House
Music and lyrics by Tim Brey
Inspiration: I wanted to write a song that captured the feeling of being haunted, or hunted. Listen with headphones. Envision yourself in a vast and barren field in the minutes before night has fully arrived, the belly of the earth ready to open up beneath you.
For mobile listeners: Pressing "play" will open a new tab. As long as you keep the tab open, most phones will allow you to listen to the song while you explore the rest of the issue in a separate tab!
For desktop listeners: Press "play" and listen while you explore the rest of the issue!
glass tiles, glue, grout
Methods: Recycled glass tiles are used to portray being haunted by loss— whether loss of life, loss of one's voice, loss of one's or rights, or being haunted by words spoken and unspoken. It can represent the consequences of being silenced.
I was silent
I was silenced
See behind the scenes of Wild Greens. Our Ko-fi page contains concept art for past issues.
America the—What a world to enterwith faded, bleeding edges.Heartbroken fury does not begin to cover the feeling unearthed by this injustice.
To concede to the ruling of a fake court in a country founded on stolen land. This land is neither yours nor mine, but a horrorscape of their own creation. As a child, you hope
to trust authority,to believe that our society has morals, that our lands and our leaders are the ones to be proud of— who will do the right thing.
It is a constant unlearning, a relentless beating on your own idiocy to believe such lies.
grow up, the voice in the back of your head shouts. loudly, bruskly. we’ve got work to do.
Where can we go that is not scorched earth?How can we exist in this space? How do I risewith hope inflating my lungs again?
The anger in my body has nowhere to goand it’s going to choke me trying to get out.
it is a slow death, to lay helpless beneath the rubble of a society crumbling I scribble over truths I cannot admit in the light of day. Instead, I google valkyries, supernatural warrior women.“In Norse literature, Valkyries were associated with fairness, brightness, and gold, as well as bloodshed.”
--The snake coiled against my spine unfurls itself, slithering up and around the expanse of my shoulder. It whispers to me, a slow show of seduction.
Shout, scream, stand up. The snake's cold tongue licks the outside of my ear and I shiver. To remain silent is to accept defeat.
Artists and Contributors
Artist and Poet
Natalie R. Quiles
Natalie R. Quiles (she/her) is a dreamer, lover of greek mythology, and overall circus peanut. She earned a degree in Political Science and hasn't used it once. When she's not writing poetry, you can find her listening to music and staring into space, salsa dancing, or practicing yoga. She works full-time in marketing and is in the process of becoming a yoga teacher. Follow her on instagram: @natalieryanxx
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.
Rebecca Samuelson is a Bay Area poet from Hayward, California who writes from the intersection of caretaking and grief. She received her MFA in creative writing, with a concentration in poetry, from Saint Mary’s College of California. She received a BA in English, with a concentration in creative writing, from San Francisco State University. Her work can be found at rebecca-samuelson.com.
Angie (she/her) came to Philly from south-central PA 15 years ago. Trained as a veterinary nurse, she is currently a research coordinator helping (human) cancer patients enroll in immunotherapy trials at Penn. Her travels have taken her across four continents (so far) and her special interests include bird- and wildlife-watching, hiking, and storytelling.
Find her on Instagram: @angiercosey
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.
Pianist and Music Editor
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.
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” 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.
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.