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Wild Greens 6, no. 12 (October 2026)
Wild Greens 6, no. 12 (October 2026)
Delirium
Delirium
Welcome to the October issue of Wild Greens.
To wrap up Volume 6 of Wild Greens, we’re taking a step back from reality as we know it in our “Delirium” issue. To begin the journey, Maggie Topel’s digital logo makes a disorienting concoction of intoxicating plants to guide our way.
Sarah Das Gupta’s poem, “On the Edge of Madness” paints a picture of a desperate trip through the desert. Scott Tierney’s mixed media drawing, “Coming Apart” is inspired by the out-of-body experience that can come from a state of delirium
In Stephanie Striffler’s poem, “Pests and Diseases,” an infestation affecting house plants starts to infect the speaker.
An intrusive thought keeps the speaker up late into the night in William Justice Bruehl’s poem, “Ruminate on Ruminating,”
Angela Patera’s drawing in gel pen, “Paralyzed” captures the feeling of delirium in neon colors and mirror doubling. In Sue Sesnon Salt’s short story, “Forget-Me-Not,” returning to a place brings on powerful memories.
Hayley J. Boyle’s watercolor cover, “Rose Tinted Glasses,” plays on the figure of speech and seeing the world for how it really is: “Sometimes wonderful. Sometimes horrific. Always a little mad.”
-Rebecca
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Wild Greens: Delirium
Wild Greens: Delirium
by Maggie Topel
Digital drawing
Inspiration: For this month's theme of "Delirium," I drew inspiration from the intoxicating qualities of different types of plants. Burning incense can set a mood, fill a room, or be used in spiritual ceremonies. Burning sage is said to cleanse bad energy. Plants can be brewed into all sorts of teas and potions that energize, relax, regulate, and more. Plants can also be used in perfumes and cosmetics. This logo is meant to invoke the hazy delirium of a potent cup of tea, aromatic herbs, and mysterious concoctions.
On the Edge of Madness
a cruel mirage Through the desert, the sand blew, Despite his scarf wound tightly. Masking his head and gaunt face. Just dark, unfathomable pools of eyes, stared at the endless, pathless dunes. Only sand and rock piles For measureless miles Scattered thorns, trunks bent eastwardsstabbed the horizon like old warriors.In the dry wadi, grit peppered his face,tiny bullets from unseen guns.He stumbled on over the waterless valley. Only sand and rock piles for miles and miles The sun shone behind swirling cloudsA bronze disc, in a sickly green haze.The stark white ribs of a long-dead camel,Stuck out of the pale sand dunes,A macabre zither for the wind to play. Only sand and rock piles for measureless miles Far to the east, a line of hillsrose defiantly above the storm.two buzzards were helplessly hurledover his head, feathers, wings,like children’s toy windmills, blown away. Only sand and rock piles for miles and miles Now he is reduced to crawling,The deep sand, clings to his fingersSlowly, the line of hills looms out of the gloom.An oasis of palm trees, wildly waving, beckoning. One last push!He cups a shaking hand, gasping, gasping.No water -Only fine grains of sand run, run between his fingers.On the Edge of Madness
by Sarah Das Gupta
Coming Apart
Coming Apart
by Scott Tierney
Mixed media: Pen, charcoal, pencil, paint, and Photoshop
Inspiration: The piece tries to capture that 'coming apart' sensation which arrives with severe delirium, like an out of body experience where you don't feel centered in the moment.
Pests and Diseases
Pests and Diseases
…some, such as red spider mite, are so small, that their presence is not usually noticeable to the naked eye until they have wrought quite a bit of damage. In fact we strongly recommend a powerful magnifying glass as part of a house plant owner’s basic equipment… — The ABC of Indoor Plants
First you noticeone brown leaf, then another, the buckling and twistingof others. You’ve been so careful —light, water, food — now you watchthe window ledge as you woulda plagued medieval town.
Disease mutters along the undersidesof every plant. Here and there sticky white strands, whole homes crafted by unnoticed intruders. For hoursyou pull and pile the sickened leaves, turned in on themselves,doubting the sun, defyingyou. You execute each one that daresbear witness to this trouble.
Even the smallest new budsthicken and curl before they open,like your voice when you speakto someone else. Perhaps alreadyunseen swarms suck inside your fingerslike nervous habits. Nightsthe neighbors hear you talkingto yourself, mornings you wakein your own webbing.
by Stephanie Striffler
Ruminate on ruminating
Ruminate on ruminating
*Editor's note: for best reading experience, view on desktop. If on mobile or tablet, turn sideways to view in landscape.
Stop ruminating and sleepStop; ruminating not goodRuminating is bad for youStop ruminating nowStop ruminating, pleaseOk now stop ruminatingRuminating on ruminatingI don’t want to ruminate Stop ruminating Stop ruminating now Ru Ruminating like this is bad Stop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating now
Stop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating now Stop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating nowStop ruminating Stop ruminating Stop ruminating Stop ruminating Stop ruminStop ruminStop rumiStop rumiStop rumitating Stah … room itate …
by William Justice Bruehl
by William Justice Bruehl
Paralyzed
Paralyzed
by Angela Patera
Gel pens
Inspiration: My piece attempts to capture the feeling of mania and confusion which delirium brings with it. The bright neon colors help to intensify that feeling, as does the evident vulnerable state of the figure.
Forget-Me-Not
Forget-Me-Not
by Sue Sesnon Salt
Exploring a country lane close to where I had recently moved, I noticed something in the distance through the fog, a cylindrical shape pushing up above the surrounding trees. I kept going, becoming more curious with each step. Arriving at a break in the trees, I saw a tall, blackened brick chimney, standing alone. There were still remnants of what must have been—burnt pieces of wood and knobby ends of pipes hinting at the size and shape of the house.
Poison Oak vines made their way up the base of the chimney and patches of weeds and fallen branches were scattered around the property. There was something very inviting, no, beckoning, and I carefully stepped into the perimeter of the original house.
The atmosphere immediately changed, a cold stillness, though on the other side of the barely visible foundation the air had felt warm and moist. Moving towards the chimney, I saw an old stove fallen on its side with a pot and kettle close by. As I reached for the kettle, something brushed by, startling me. I looked around and saw nothing, only the rough outlines of where rooms had been. Bending toward the kettle again, pieces of ash blew into my eyes and I blinked. For a second I saw a woman reaching for the kettle. Blinking again, the vision was gone. This must be my imagination, I thought, as a streak of sunlight shot through the fog.
The chimney was so tall; the house must have been two stories with a staircase. Deducing where I imagined it to be, I took a step and stopped. I couldn’t move forward; my legs felt planted. I took a step back and tried again, and was stopped once more. I backed up slowly, tripping and falling. What did I trip on? I didn’t see anything but dirt and leaves on the ground. Whose house was this? What happened here? I felt panic rising.
“What do you want,” I yelled and was met with an eerie silence. I crab-walked back toward some crumbling steps that must have been part of the main entrance. “I’ll leave you alone,” I promised as a gust of wind buffeted me, threatening my balance.
I looked up at the tall chimney and noticed an alcove in the brickwork where the second story would be. Something was nestled in it but was too far away to identify. I need to get out of here, I thought, moving to leave, but was stopped at the edge of the perimeter by a powerful energy.
“Let me go,’ I demanded. Silence. “Leave me alone,” I implored through my fear. I heard gentle singing, a familiar lullaby, and relaxed into the melody. Tears welled up and I started to cry. Softly at first, but then growing into a grieving, inconsolable, heart-wrenching wail. More voices chimed in, men, women, and the tinkling laughter of children. “Shush,” a voice said. “Baby is sleeping upstairs. Please don’t wake her.”
The continuous murmuring lulled me to sleep. Suddenly I was awakened by a tremendous gale that shook the trees and sent branches and leaves and dirt flying around in a giant vortex. I lay back, dizzy and disoriented. The chimney started to crumble, and I rolled away from it as it came down, bricks flying everywhere. I saw something else. Crawling through the rubble, I picked it up. It was a small, faded portrait of a little girl. I looked and blinked and stared at it in disbelief. It was me.
With my heart pounding, I made my way back towards the lane and came across a small carpet of blue. A bed of tiny flowers. Forget-Me-Nots. I gently placed the picture among them. I had come home.
Rose Tinted Glasses
Rose Tinted Glasses
by Hayley J. Boyle
Watercolor
Inspiration: For our final issue of Volume 6, my inspiration for the cover came to me in an early morning semi-lucid dream. Rather than viewing the world through rose tinted glasses, which feels like a form of delirium all on its own these days, my mind imagined the color of the frames, allowing the wearer to view the world for what it is. Without optimism nor pessimism, but accepting the "real world" for what it is: Sometimes wonderful. Sometimes horrific. Always a little mad.
If you like the issue, you can donate to Wild Greens through our Ko-fi page!
Artists and Contributors
Artists and Contributors
Maggie Topel
Artist
Maggie Topel (she/her) is an artist and writer living in Philadelphia. She designs our seasonal Wild Greens logos and social media avatar.
Sarah Das Gupta
Poet
Sarah Das Gupta is a writer from Cambridge, UK who has taught English in India, Africa and UK. She started writing four years ago, aged 80, following a disabling accident. Her work has been published in over 25 countries, in anthologies and literary magazines. She has recently been nominated for Best of the Net, the Pushcart and a Dwarf Star.
Scott Tierney
Artist
Scott Tierney’s writings include the ongoing Royal Road series The Adventures of Crumpet-Hands Man, the novella Kin, and the comic book series Pointless Conversations. His short-stories have been published in Liar's League, Bristol Noir, After Dinner Conversation, and HumourMe.
Stephanie Stiffler
Poet
Stephanie Striffler is a former lawyer for the people of Oregon. She cannot recall a time before she knew the transport of poetry. Her poems have appeared in various journals, including Tar River Poetry, CALYX Journal, OneArt, and Bellingham Review. She finds joy and solace birding and has observed eight species of sparrow in her Portland yard.
William Justice Bruehl
Poet
William Justice Bruehl, a retired theatre guy from Stony Brook University, has produced many of the 25 plays he has written, and has independently published 8 volumes of narrative prose in the last ten years. It’s all available at his website, billbruehl.com. At 95, he is just getting started publishing poetry.
Angela Patera
Artist
Angela Patera is a published artist, writer, poet, and photographer. Her art has appeared in numerous publications, as well as on the cover of Small Wonders Magazine, Indie Bites Magazine, Gnome & Bone Magazine, and a few more. When Angela isn't creating she likes to mainly spend time in the woods, cemeteries, and museums.
You can find her on Instagram @angela_art13 and Bluesky @angela-art13
Sue Sesnon Salt
Author
Sue Sesnon Salt is a fourth generation Californian. She is now retired and has the time to pursue her writing. Her essays have been published in Blood & Bourbon, Pure Slush, Pacific Review, and on the Brevity Blog. Her poetry is featured in the Women in a Golden State anthology and the Wave. A personal essay is forthcoming in Persimmon Tree.
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 West Chester University, where he teaches jazz piano, music theory, and improvisation. Check out more of his music and his performance schedule at https://www.timbreymusic.com.
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, tennis, cinema, live music, and seeing the world. When not doing mom things, she is working full-time, learning yet another language, and planning her next adventure.
Her work can be purchased on Amazon.
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.
Hayley Boyle
Arts Editor
Hayley (she/her) creates the cover image for every 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 husband Evan and dog Birdie, and she wouldn't have it any other way. You can find Hayley on Instagram @hayley3390.
Rebecca Lipperini
Editor-in-chief
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).
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