Our fall offering is a teeny slice of perception that, depending on your angle of approach, may give back borrowed time. Here in the fields, 60,000 wild horses stampede like Sisyphus toward their rest. Feel the emotional current of transitioning seasons that comes so often, a flocking to what was left open from the unfinished basement of August. What is gone leaves no trace, but a stroke of serendipity. An epitaph of hunger that reads: Hold on. Hold on.
— the editors
teeny slice of perception
depending on your angle of approach
may give back borrowed time
here in the fields
60,000 wild horses stampede
like Sisyphus toward their rest
emotional current
comes so often
flocking to what was left open
the unfinished basement of August
what is gone leaves no trace
a stroke of serendipity
epitaph
hunger
Hold on. Hold on.