Folio

Nowhere

"Nowhere" by Ryan Carter

Nothing

"Nothing" by Ryan Carter

Nobody

"Nobody" by Ryan Carter

"Particle Beat" by Jesse Crawford

Astronauts in the Ocean

"Astronauts in the Ocean" by Travis Cross

"Landscapes" by Jesse Crawford

Erin McGuire: Artists of Folio

"Lady of the Trees" by Carl Heath

"Lady of the Trees" by Carl Heath

New Stories of Earth

New Stories of Earth by Keaton Butler

Flocks of flying birds soar in flux
on a season’s closing cusp
and I witness them

remove themselves
from the pond-water’s blue haven
and slip upward to that which

some call the heavens
and others give offerings to,
the greying teal head

that will soon be putting
on its wintercap until acrobatic
perennials reclaim the ground

from the snow. I have heard stories
from Earth, about her abundance,
her arid places and fountains,

that she told me in solemn tears, or
while cast in a brilliant light
so that her willow-hair and

shoulders glowed, so the wind
helped to juggle her changes
and rivers churn silt and carry fish

through humble flows, catering
to the shape of the rocks, and
calling out the name of life.

Leaves

Leaves by Ryan Falco


Lying in the leaves
staring at their branches
all the world quiet
but for rustling.

Already, most of the leaves have fallen,
creating a bed for me, starting to cover me,
some of them catch the wind,
brush across me, away from me.

The bark, lain in folded curves,
majestically begets lines and planes unparalleled.
Now, rugged and dry and gray and worn,
it smiles like an old beard.

Trunk unfurled,
underground, towards the sky,
it splits and splits and splits
and holding to its branches
a few brown leaves remain
a few red leaves remain
a few orange leaves
a few yellow leaves
a few green leaves remain
wisping in the wind
while the cauliflower blue sky dims.

First, came the blossoms
then, the seeds
and then, the leaves,
all with the same origins
all of them appearing quite sudden
during the sun’s season of progression.
Dormant and then,
abrupt:
Blossoms
turn to seeds
replaced by leaves
which gather ‘til maturity
until the season when the sun recedes.
Their sway induces

recollections,
times when full breadth,
sunlit, rays dropped through,
moving with vibrance,
glimmering, dazzling, lustrous,
a pure blind shine shimmer
for a glimpse
and then, when,
still vital, in full breadth,
they were cold and blue
and wept
and were swept
against currents
‘til, finally, all the world now wet,
they were left
silent.

Inevitable
only to fall,
to fall, to fall, to fall,
to create a bed for me
to cover me
to catch the wind
to brush across
and to drift away from me.

A few brown leaves remain
a few red leaves remain
a few orange leaves
a few yellow leaves
a few green leaves remain
wisping in the wind
while the cauliflower blue sky dims.

Soon,
I am certain,
I will be lying in the leaves
staring at their branches,
all the world will be quiet
and sourced from the sun’s last passing gleen
one leaf will remain
golden green,
waiting,
inevitable,
to fall, to fall, to fall,
to succumb.
With it I will drift away.