So I will say this: the wildness we seek—we meaning us, us meaning bird and sky—is savage and panting. It’s coming for us all in ways we can’t imagine. But when the bare bones are laid, the sharp teeth gritted, we’ll see what we’ve always known: the wildness lives inside of you. (x)Highlights of that particular issue include Venetta Octavia's "Say Maybe, the Lake," Daisy King's "Sleeps," and Dalton Day's "Inject / Extract / Inject / Extract." I knew, after immersing myself in it, that I wanted to submit to this journal of yearning and yesterdays someday.
The poem of mine that eventually found its resting place there, "cycles," was written in response to a prompt of just one word: storm. It's an experiment for me in every way, with elements of form, tone, and imagery that differ vastly from my usual work. But I do think it evokes a lostness and wide-eyed wonder that makes its new home a perfect one, and I couldn't be happier.
Head over to Wildness to give its new February 2016 issue, featuring my poem, a good long look—it'll make your day a little gentler. (A poem by my dear friend Topaz titled "Cherry Blossoms" has also settled there; be sure to keep an eye out for it.)