You thought you heard a whale, a wail, a wailing. Assumed a woman’s voice, a stance to view the mess. —Alise Alouisi, “I Am Not Your Mother” The poems in the MOTHERS RESPOND folio refuse to look away from landscapes…
Browsing: Curated
Judgment “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” — “Rating” Mothers “Are you a good witch or a bad witch,” Dorothy asks Glinda, who has no problem naming herself as good. When we apply the…
As I braid one of my daughter’s hair and the other waits her turn, I tell them what I am doing. I show them how to separate the hair in sections, how each braid is comprised of three parts, and…
HBAC PERFORMANCE MANIFESTO SLQS (Sarah Le Quang Sang) Procreate Project, the Museum of Motherhood and the Mom Egg Review are pleased to announce the 52nd edition of this scholarly discourse. Literature intersects with art to explore the wonder and the challenges of…
Eco-poetry: Nature Through the Lens of Motherhood We live in fraught ecological times, as unchecked-climate change threatens our planet. And though we—humankind—may be the invasive species, “we are,” as the poet Ashia Ajani writes, “nature, entangled in her movements.”…
Hannah Baker Saltmarsh Love, Earth Mother Do you know how many times I’ve started over, without you, on my own? Once, in a beetle’s floral gown, I scraped together a semblance of a planet. I breathe so quietly…
Anna Laura Reeve Exile Anna Laura Reeve is a poet living and gardening near the Tennessee Overhill region,…
Catherine Esposito Prescott Black Creek Trail or Annual Bike Ride During the Pandemic When Our Usual Route Is Closed New Year’s Day, 2021 Every vulture in Miami congregates on the outskirts of this landfill, and we ride past their…
Maria S. Picone The world is my mother’s gift always from her hands to mine soil pouring through fingers blood letting self run from her hands to mine insect buzz incandescing from her hands to mine amethysts winking starlit…
Koss Untitled (Earth) mother earth, in her shifting plates and spinning transits her own aloof epic the slow weep of canyons’ wounds magnetic axis drawing in quiet defiance and divorces of continents and their denizens oh to be…