by Hannah Mitchell
He did not, probably, work with his own hands. A river-god, seated beneath an arch: Unconfined, unlimited, A chemical vessel. Remarkable hills at the foot of the rainbow (The most beautiful of all the colors, A delicate violet, a deep green) Gently exhaled, "We have our joys and sorrows in common." Narcissus stands in the heart of the fountain. The sunlight shifts, an ever-changing beauty. The moss grows between the stone walk. Someone is on watch every moment, Silent and impotent spectator... Couldn't understand his father's mind. Gallowglasses: soldiers among the ancient Irish — Argument upon argument, they are valuable in proportion to their size, Received in a wooden case without a bottom. Their magic robes would not work. Storms had no visible effect: Combustion without flame, ships in a storm. "You who were my lover, I shall not Forget you. And now leave the river, and let The waters run free." Follow the pencil taking fire as it runs, A little girl with an empty birdcage. It acts with great energy, crushed Between rollers And sifted, ready for decorating, next to the Monochrome grounds. They tried every means in their power to turn your heart away: Apocalyptic sounds and echoes — An underground lake of boiling water — The wolf village. The process is not, however, Quite as easy as it looks.
by Cynthia Yatchman
Hannah Mitchell has written poetry since she was old enough to scribble. A teacher of English, she earned her master’s degree at Piedmont College and has been in education for over fifteen years. In January 2020, she was chosen to participate in the Tupelo Press 30/30 Project. Mitchell writes songs and poetry that are a little too earnest, and usually only publishes her work in anonymous ‘zines.
Cynthia Yatchman is a Seattle based artist and art instructor. She shows extensively in the PaciNic Northwest. Past shows have included Seattle University, the Tacoma and Seattle Convention Centers and the PaciNic Science Center. Her art is housed in numerous public and private collections.