Flow like a river spirit my dear child contort and shake, transcend your physical form all that matters is the energy you bring Return to the purity of childhood innocence with a deep understanding of all beings that have come before Interpret the omens with a swift foot and open
writing, art & comics
It was always there. A silent switch so still and static, vestigial as your camouflage, but there. Weighing you down like mercury, causing drag and taking space but there. Inside your brain, your heart, your gills, an implicit goal, a pure command, a yearning. One small fish, basking under the
beating, battered and bruised her forlorn longing is not lost upon us despite splotches black and blue collected over years of affliction lol carrying on, day by day in an exasperated, and anguished type of way her incessant thumping, never halting, regardless of the purple & green that shapes mountains
we all need a reasona quantification of joy and sufferinga futile effort to veil our desolationperpetuated by our virulent fear of all unknown circumvent the unknownexist in the futurebecome like that of the futurenothing but mereconcept a concept died todaythere was no mourningupon its death it ultimately displayed vitalityas life
I got the material from a grandmothernot my grandmother, but a womanshe had borne childrenthey had borne childrenthere was a general striding of time that was appropriate to christen the cloth to make it deep with winter, spring, summer, Death to make the threadsto thread the threadsto ply the threadsto
If you consider how many bears and humans are scattered across the north of Canada, it is incredible how few encounters there are between them. Despite this, I have had a few memorable encounters. The Scotland that I grew up in had no large wild animals such as tigers, lions,
Bare rail bed, where tracks used to runcarrying ore and dreams of wealthnorth to Slocanbefore heading to the smelter in Revelstoke.The push for expansiona railroad rushing past homesteads in the lush valleypast lonely, wild places deep in the mountains. The path disappears into bright trees far ahead of me.An autumn
This publication is the result of collaboration between students and faculty of the School of University Arts & Sciences and the School of the Arts at Selkirk College. Submissions are published online throughout the year and selected works are compiled into a print magazine once per year.
We trust you will enjoy!