We're traveling, in this issue, out to Lebanon, into the cottonwoods' celadon buds, road tripping through lives and hearts in Utah, NYC and beyond. Join the journey, and watch out for water's force and menace. Crows and herons fly on and off the pages; you may rise with wings and call after one you're following. The theme "Action & Rest" suggests cycles our bodies share with seasons, with trees, with tectonics ... and I wanted the work here to remind me, to remind all of us, that "action" and "rest" make each other vibrant. We're also reminded here that children are lightning rods for our active attention, and there's something blessed in their rest.
You may notice that most of the poetry I select makes what is commonly known as "sense," but that some does not. I've been meaning to tell you that this is ok! When you engage with the arts (literary, visual, or otherwise) on a logical level, great, but when the arts call forth a response from something other than your logic organ, welcome the possibility for emotional/sonic/visual/aesthetic enchantment. In his introduction to Paradise Lost, Phillip Pullman writes that when poetry flusters readers, those same readers may actually be at the threshold of a new experience. "When they thought they were both bothered and bewildered," Pullman says, "they were in fact being bewitched." See how far the spell holds.