Found

The Moon by DAVID BERMAN A web of sewer, pipe, and wire connects each house to the others. In 206 a dog sleeps by the stove where a small gas leak causes him to have visions; visions that are rooted in nothing but gas. Next door, a man who has decided to buy a car part by part excitedly unpacks a wheel and an ashtray. He arranges them every which way. It’s really beginning to take shape. Out the garage window he sees a group of ugly children enter the forest. Their mouths look like coin slots. A neighbor plays keyboards in a local cover band. Preparing for an engagement at the high school prom, they pack their equipment in silence. Last night they played the Police Academy Ball and all the officers slow-danced with target range silhouettes. This year the theme for the prom is the Tetragrammaton. A yellow Corsair sails through the disco parking lot and swaying palms presage the lot of young libertines. Inside the car a young lady wears a corsage of bullet-sized rodents. Her date, the handsome cornerback, stretches his talons over the molded steering wheel. They park and walk into the lush starlit gardens behind the disco just as the band is striking up. Their keen eyes and ears twitch. The other couples look beautiful tonight. They stroll around listening to the brilliant conversation. The passionate speeches. Clouds drift across the silverware. There is red larkspur, blue gum, and ivy. A boy kneels before his date. And the moon, I forgot to mention the moon.

Paintings by Spanish Baroque painter Juan Sánchez Cotán.

Paintings by American artist Ellsworth Kelly.

She has an Instagram you can follow as well!

Paintings by American artist Shyama Golden.

Love Poem: centaur by DONIKA KELLY I have never known a field as wild as your heart. Or galloped or hardened my breast in the sun. I call my own bluff and bravado: what I apprehend needs no apprehension; what I make, stands undone. Here is my hand, soft, uncalloused. Here, a lock of my mane. Now, I am afraid and so I turn to the field. The flower and red beetle and winter light. The cardinal hen. Your pretty brown bird cutting the sky.

Love Poem: Centaur By DONIKA KELLY Nothing approaches a field like me. Hard gallop, hard chest — hooves and mane an flicking tail. My love: I apprehend each flower, each winged body, saturated in a light that burnishes. I would make a burnishing of you, by which I mean a field in flower, by which I mean, a breaching— my hands making an arrow of themselves, rooting the loosened dirt. I would make for you the barest of sounds, wing against wing, there, at the point of articulation. Love, I pound the earth for you. I pound the earth.

Paintings by Cuban surrealist Wifredo Lam.