Dan Collins & Paxton Maroney

2017, Art, Poetry

‘No. 28’ from Anscoflex series by Paxton Maroney


When I was in middle school
two other boys and I climbed
the water tower after dark.
We did it on a dare. We didn’t
have paint, but we had a beer,
a pack of Marlboro and a near
empty matchbox. So, we sat
smoking cigarette after cigarette
on the catwalk high above our
little kingdom, in a moment
of triumph, lying to ourselves
about other ways we might fly.



‘No. 30’ from Anscoflex series by Paxton Maroney


Water may bless
this desert someday. Trees may spring
from this dusty soil; birds
may shelter in the branches—
and they will sing sweetly, maybe,
of terrible choices
they have made. But right now,
the only thing that matters
is this stop light
and this yellow line in the road.


Paxton Maroney is a Dallas-based conceptual artist predominantly using the medium of photography. You can see her artwork in Bishop Arts District at Jen Mauldin Gallery. Featured works are listed on her website.

The series titled Anscoflex was created in Archer City, TX and was shot digitally through the viewfinder of her Anscoflex camera. One may question why she didn’t just use film? Whether it is a single image, her digitally composited work or her mixed media, Paxton is always intentional with her process.  As you take a peek through the glass, a sense of presence is allowed.

Dan Collins is an artist and poet active in the creative community of Dallas. He co-owns and operates Tree House Studio with his wife Rebecca Lansdowne Collins. He was 2015 Winner of both the Writer’s Garret People’s Choice Award and Juried Haiku Contest. His poetry has been published in the Blue Mesa Review (2nd place annual writing contest, issue #32), Naugatuck River Review (Semi-finalist 4th Annual Narrative Poetry Contest), The online journals Entropy and [Out of Nothing]. He is a ‘brain trust’ member of Pandora’s Box Poetry Showcase, a monthly Dallas invitational reading series.

Liz Robbins & Sara Pedigo

2014, Art, Poetry

field notes

field notes, oil on paper, 30” x 22”, 2012 /  Sara Pedigo

field notes

the girl in the sky-blue sundress with one strap
down watches as the tall man watches her–

in the background a brass instrument commands,
it’s the fourth of july, and in the periphery of watching

someone is forever bent over, and much further back
scores of dolls with blank faces, scores of unspeakable

plots . . . must we succumb to being children of such
disinheritance, love already escaping among the dried

wildflowers, legacy insisting the love song terrible even
for the most faithful, one leaving eventually, the night

sky, the parched earth . . . see, someone has set out
Chinese lanterns at dusk to charm the lawn, to guide

the watching, someone has set out drinks–

The Boat's Floor
The Boat’s Floor, graphite and white acrylic paint on paper, 9” x 12”, 2012 / Sara Pedigo


Dry-heartedness is not
the issue. Not only is
the heart there and large but
wet. It weeps eternal for a
nonexistent judgment day.
Movement, scooping pails
of saltwater from the boat’s floor,
helps. So does carving
your name in oars. Such things
take time, we were not meant to
burn but circle. Under the trees,
the green-wrecked trees–
branches and leaves dripping
a storm’s water–run tunnels
to the warm, dark margins.
Where if you wait, the gold
eyes of foxes open.


Liz Robbins‘ second full collection, Play Button, won the 2010 Cider Press Review Book Award, judged by Patricia Smith; her chapbook, Girls Turned Like Dials, won the 2012 YellowJacket Press prize. Her poems are in recent or forthcoming issues of Cortland Review, Cream City Review, Denver Quarterly, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Grist, The Journal, and Kenyon Review Online. She’s an associate professor of creative writing at Flagler College in St. Augustine, FL.

Sara Pedigo is a painter and educator living and working in Saint Augustine, Florida. Pedigo has exhibited throughout the United States, and is currently represented by Wynn Bone Gallery in Annapolis, MD. Most notably, she was included in the 2006 Portrait Competition at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery. A 2007 recipient of the Joan Mitchell MFA Grant, she has also exhibited at the Naples Art Museum, Jacksonville MOCA, and Cue Foundation. Pedigo received her MFA from the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. She is currently an Associate Professor at Flagler College, her undergraduate alma mater.

Randi Ward

2014, Art

holdfast xxi

holdfast xxi

Note from the artist:

holdfast: \hōl(d)-,fast\ n.
1a). a structure by which a plant clings to a flat surface
1b). an organ by which a parasitic animal attaches itself to its host
2a). something to which something else may be attached
2b). a restraint that holds something in place

The holdfast photographs are a testament to the terrifying struggle to find a place in an oftentimes indifferent world, a world that all too rarely reflects on the socioeconomic dynamics and discourses that shape us, our perceptions of ourselves and others, and our opportunities and access to particular resources. All of the photographs in this collection were taken in Morgantown, WV; the images juxtapose and problematize enculturated notions of growth, deterioration, and poverty in metaphorical terms that hinge on architecture, flora, and graffiti. Simultaneously, holdfast is a tribute to the complexity of the human spirit as well as its tenacious ability to turn an unforgiving wall’s crevice into an anchor— even in the bleakest of circumstances.


Randi Ward is a writer, translator, lyricist and photographer from West Virginia. She earned her MA in Cultural Studies from the University of the Faroe Islands and is a recipient of The American-Scandinavian Foundation’s Nadia Christensen Prize. Ward is a Pushcart Prize nominee whose work has appeared in AsymptoteBeloit Poetry JournalCimarron ReviewAnthology of Appalachian WritersVencil: Anthology of Contemporary Faroese Literature and other publications. For more information, please visit: www.randiward.com/about

Richard Kostelanetz

2014, Art

From_Remembering Manhattan


Individual entries on Richard Kostelanetz’s work in several fields appear in various editions of Readers Guide to Twentieth-Century Writers, Merriam-Webster Encyclopedia of Literature, Contemporary Poets, Contemporary Novelists, Postmodern Fiction, Webster’s Dictionary of American Writers, The HarperCollins Reader’s Encyclopedia of American Literature, Baker’s Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, Directory of American Scholars, Who’s Who in America, Who’s Who in the World, Who’s Who in American Art, NNDB.com, Wikipedia.com, and Britannica.com, among other distinguished directories. Otherwise, he survives in New York, where he was born, unemployed and thus overworked. http://www.richardkostelanetz.com/

Daniella Clayton

2014, Art


“Silence” Pen drawing

Hypnagogic” Pencil drawing


Daniella Clayton currently lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota. She draws and paints regularly to fill the bland hours of telemarketing, where she heartlessly hucks insurance to the unsuspecting public. You can also see some of her paintings in the first volume of Winter Tangerine Review and the eleventh issue of Weave Magazine.

Rachel Squires Bloom

2014, Art


About the painting: “I am primarily a poet and paint for enjoyment only. I’d never sent any of my  paintings out (although my poetry is published) before this. I have Kool Aid guy hanging right here in my office. While it began as an exercise in color in line, it seemed to paint itself. I had just taken on administrative duties in addition to teaching (assistant principal) and apparently my ambivalence about my dual role needed an outlet.”


Rachel Squires Bloom: I have had poems in The Hawaii ReviewPoet Lore, Fugue, Poetry East, Main Street Rag, Kimera, Nomad’s Choir, The Mad Poet’s Review, Bluster, 96 Inc., Bellowing Ark, Slugfest, Thin Air, Taproot Literary Review, True Romance, Lucid Stone, Green Hills Literary Lantern, California Quarterly, Chest,and A View from the Bed. But that’s not what matters. What matters is that I wrote my first poem at age six on a paper plate, struck at the insight that the two-syllable “flower” rhymed with “power,” edging me beyond cat-bat-hat. I rarely write about flowers now, although they occasionally appear as imagery, along with soup kitchens, pillbugs, passports, crickets, and the bones of Capuchin monks.