Jody’s audio poems weave a multi-sensory tapestry that unpacks communal tending, self-compassion, and the shedding of self-doubt.

The gift of Jeni Prater’s poems is their effortless ability to render the mundane a miracle, the invisible seen, and the “unconventional” a beautiful new future. As her words search for life, sifting through the complexities of biology and bureaucracy both, her readers are unwittingly captivated by the tenderness of her tireless pursuit.

In her captivating photo essay, Esther peels back the layers of memory to better understand her immigrant family’s migration, survival, and identity journeys.

Erin Langner is well into adulthood when she is suddenly overcome with nostalgia—and guilt—about her long-since-over childhood obsession with the late R&B icon Aaliyah. In her essay, “The Sound of Absence,” Langner is a reporter and poet both, investigating the psychological phenomena of cultural erasure while also penning a heart-achingly tender ode to the things we love and lose, and the things time begs us to leave behind.

Part elegy, part prayer, part epistolary masterpiece—Amy Rose Lafty’s “My Father Is a Crab Nebula” is as littered with love and grief as the galaxy is replete with stars. You won’t soon find a more intimate glimpse into the cosmic transcendence of a life lost too soon—and the mourning that comes from being left behind.

Inspired by solitary nature walks, Joanne’s immersive digital exhibit delves into the nonlinear journey of returning to the self through their connection with nature.

What do rivers remember and where do they invite us? I invite you to take your time with the rivers, questions, and longings in this issue.

When I curated this anthology, I was fixated on the idea of “change”: What it means, what it holds, and what it can be.

Whenever I can’t stop thinking about something, I know I should write about it.

With every subsequent phase of this process undergone, a new layer of sinew, muscle, and flesh was added to the skeleton of my dream.