Truth

I am whole. Tierra y yo.

-Micheala Yarmol- Matusiak

Streetview

Zoom out

Google Maps

Place the Man on The Moon

(SwoOn)

Bleep Bleep

Stop

(Swerve)

U-Turn

I-90

Cars, Cars, cars

Stop

Zoom In Out

Manual Focus Monocle

Lens turtle shell

Extinction and Fossilization

Snap

Elastic Band waves

Salt Lake City

X Orange

Writing for today

Zoom out.

-Micheala Yarmol-Matsusiak

For when faith Fails

Right now, the water is murky, filled with nitrogen and algal bloom.

The fish and I have lost our habitat,

I need a sign that this ecosystem will be restored.

That balance will be once more.

Tell me that the fields will turn from ice into potent sunflowers that fill the air with

warmth and longing.

Let the stars fall and please, let the bees return.

I wait for the hives to fill, for the hibiscus to open their vibrant petals.

I long for the hydrangeas and the ferns, the english oak and the daffodils to bloom and

burst once again,

among the ruby and creamsicle tinged skies.

These visions have no sense of time, there is no time

time is not real, a mirage over gypsum deserts and yucca plants.

It is stuck in the asteroid belt along with the lost hopes and dreams that we cast away

out of reach from gravity, with no trajectory of return.

This brings the question:

Can technologies advance?

Can I manipulate the hummingbirds to travel past Mars and bring my dreams home to

me? Bring my love home?

Tell me Universe is this in the stars?

Are we meant to reunite ourselves with what we have lost in yesterday tomorrow?

Field Note 1

Sediment formations are surrounded by emerald water and schools of fish.

I glide through the rippling waves as the salt content keeps me afloat.

The sunshine etches itself in wave-like patterns across my arms, refracting and

reflecting through the frigid sea.

Though I am covered in goosebumps, I am reminded that I am a part of this beautiful

scene.

-Micheala Yarmol- Matusiak

Nostalgia

Have you ever had the feeling

When you wake and hear the chirping

Of the swallows, by your window,

By your window, they all sit

You start walking down the pavement

Which you took when you were little

And remember seasons passing

Seasons passing, bit by bit

Or you read a little something

About people that you knew once

Names and selves that stayed in your head

In your head they do not fit

Nowadays, have you the feeling?

Do you wake and hear the chirping

Of the swallows by your window

By your window, do they sit?

-Jeanne Polochansky

The First Lullaby

Catch the fairy of the soul

Clasped within the polished bowls

Place it in the hazel round

And hide it under jealous thorn

Stitch a thread of love and life

Through the forests of whitened branch

Draw a line of hollow breath

On skyward stems and languid leaves

Plant the seeds of slender down

Long or short, either is well

Let raindrops fall onto the bloom

As long as they’re not bitter, but sweet

Paint the berries cream and gold

Glaze in silver, cover in silk

Dot spots on the hill with truffle and spice

And powder it off with shimmering dust

Let gold streams flow between each strand

Running through kaleidoscope falls

Make the wandering sun plant a kiss on the path

Its butterflies painting trails of pink

Listen for cries of the buried mountains

Hear the hum of hooved travelers

Blind the fliers but see their wings

Guiding fires towards the sky

-Jeanne Polochansky

Indigo/Crimson

I can open both of my eyes

Yet while one sees, the other one cries

Looking past the shoreless sea

I spot capsized rafts awaiting me

I peer into mirrors to find what’s amiss

But I end up blinded instead of blissed

I hear voices that say the key

Is something that I cannot see

Don’t wear tinted glasses – surreality lies

Pink isn’t always the colour of skies

The dark is your friend, as should be your ears

Since invisible silence causes great fears

Water can’t help and neither can you,

The stings have pierced all the way through

Once you’re here, there’ll be no wound to tend

All that’s left is to wait for the end

Forget the colours of your breath

They’ll be gone soon, inviting death

Trade irises for rose bouquets

There’s nothing to see here anyways

They’ll wrinkle and whittle if you watch for too long

Your nectar will dry with the hummingbird’s song

But you sent a seed on its brittle wings

Don’t fret, lest you lose the garden it brings

Perhaps in the depths of the greenest waves

Meadows of coral cover the caves

I don’t know for sure of this faraway bloom…

…are they growing for me? (Only fools would assume!)

Petals, like paint strokes, dapple her hair

One day she’ll find out they grew everywhere

For now she believes she’s accursed with this view

Alas, she’s mistaken – she’s blessed with it too

-Jeanne Polochansky