There is no message to post home,I do not wish you here. Sea and sky framed in snow and stone.No words scribbled on the margins,I’m tired of explaining, translating every emotion. Unprotected veins of ice,stalactites drip, echo, drip,dissolving cliffs to sand, walls...
Wrapped in the fabric of my pink dupatta, Begum Bazaar is the fabled navel in the eye of antiquity. The streets stomach quaintness mutely, like measured gulps of Irani chai. We walk on, moving in a soft-haze of sounds and colors. You propose a game of make-believe. We...
Molten candy peach nectar streams over lips salty- licked, pistachios shucked on steep dunes, stoic veined bookends, marble slipping welcome into cotton gloves worn by the waves. The sea open tide all the way to Africa. My spaces draw onto creased linen, fried rigid...
When the days are merely cold, but nights freeze the maple trees, I bore up far as xylem to set the spiles, hang the buckets, wait for warmth to move the trees to donate ichor. Sweet sap flows. Born and raised in New York, James Penha (he/him🌈) has...
Photo: Sheila Fitzgerald / Shutterstock.com There is water here, somewhere, but not at the end of this street, or the next one, each finding only a barrier of evergreens. And so I walk ever further into this maze of houses, each reclaimed from history, yards...
1. In the boat’s wake:a range of mountains,arching spine of peaks and valleys molded into the pliant sea. The path forward: littered with driftwood. 2. The earth’s anxiety in the liminal spaces: maelstrom of birds, the wind’s long howl, arrhythmic ocean swelling and...
