Folded Word
Exploring the world, one voice at a time.
Category: column
Equinox Series Update
Due to illness, the Equinox Series Selections for Fall 2018 will not be posted today as originally planned. Instead, they will be posted on Monday, 24 September 2018. We apologize for the delay and any inconvenience this causes.
Folded Field Notes: MIGRATION
Folded Field Notes : Join our community based writing project exploring the ecological theme of “migration.”
Lopping Them Off
Persimmons proclaim their youth when bitterness puckers our jowls. Few mature into sweetness. The unskilled arborist prunes the branches, partially severed, kerfs collapsing, tearing bark from the trunk. Decay enters into unclean cuts. Stubs sprout suckers and obscure the tree’s interior from sunlight. At…
The Continental Woe
surviving on peaches and tea what weary wanderer will walk for peaches and coffee ©2018 by Justin Haenel Justin Haenel Lives and writes in Vermont. He dabbles in it all, but gravitates towards the briefer poetry.
A Story Festival
On a small patch of green beside the library in this close community on the hill, once a year we tell stories in a marquee while the sun blazes, the rain beats and the wind howls.
Excerpt from WATERSHED
A poem from Jean L. French’s collection — now available in Global Edition. Incanto I call the name of rain a secret name without words. A wisp of cloud grows all day it grows cloud gathers to fullness releases, whispering back to me rain’s…
Between April and May
Coyote hunts the streets like a stray dog, her claws clicking along the asphalt. Among the urban diaspora, her lean shanks and rusty coat look primordial or alien. Her teeth flash among headlights like slashes of white paint on a dark canvas and her…
The day you got tattooed…
the air was thick, and the sky was locked between white and grey. When you lifted your sleeve, they stared back at me like magic marker on the kitchen wall… those markings that will forever brand my child. The ink on your arm was…
My Own Nairobi
“How is it possible to bring order out of memory.” ~Beryl Markham, West with the Night. In the mud on the bottom of my boots, I spot a flake of gold mixed in. I take a sharp knife and loosen it out staring at…
Bird’s Eye View
The people down there are walking on the concrete pavement, sitting on wooden benches, driving in their metal cars. The city is a constant loop of vehicles, smoke and smog, and noise. It goes around and around and I can see its shunted and criss-cross movement like the leaves on the tress see the ants below.
Wonderfold Winner
Our winner this month is “Summertime” written by Fiona M Jones! A big thank you to everyone who participated, it’s always great reading all the pieces that come in.
