Special Issue: Fall Harvest

INTENTIONS | 11.1.19

Smoke in the Air

The air is grey and forms a lump in my throat. I write to you because writing is comfort. And I write to you because this edition features the golden work of 11 Herd members for our Fall Harvest Special Issue. 

 Last issue I asked for your work, and now I present the fine work of 11 Herders. They represent an eclectic mix of artists and thinkers, with words and drawings that made me laugh, pause, and reflect. 

Thank you to those who shared, and thank you to all who read and listen to their stories. 

Enjoy.
 

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CREATIVITY CRUSH | 11.1.19

Laura Ståhlberg seeks “beauty in all its forms.” 

Creating art isn’t always a choice for Laura. “I have to create,” she says. “Even on the smallest level, I create.” 

Laura means this: she customizes every envelope and notecard she sends, considering the color pens, font, rubber stamp, and postage stamps.

“I also have a real affinity for certain objects,” Laura explains. “I love my mechanical pencil with 4B lead—and grid pads!” 

We talk about the role of her parents too. “I got my love of typography from my Dad, and my mother, she is incredible with color.”

As an art director who seeks beauty in its natural state, “like the ocean,” Laura has built a life with art at its core. She also has dreams of two large-scale projects right now, one that involves a collection of t-squares, and one that involves 40 years of saved ticket stubs from going to the movies. 

“It’s so different when you create something with your hands, even a letter,” Laura explains. “That pen is used by your fingers, and those fingers are linked to the words of your heart.”

WRITING HARVEST | 11.1.19

11 members of The Herd share their work!

In order of appearance, we are lucky to share with you the works of Rob Jackson, The Doodler, Tara Shepersky, Brett Benson, Meyya Tabbaa, Mason Fernandez, Kevin Dick, Harriet Patterson, Julia Rigby, Zeina Baltagi, and Kelly Alsup.

Break this newsletter into bits and take your time with these inspiring folks.

Rob Jackson on extinction and Ghost Sounds

In Ghost Sounds, I grapple with beauty lost from the world around us. 

Preparing to teach an ecology class on species extinctions, I was surprised to learn we had specimens of both the Carolina Parakeet and the Passenger Pigeon in cabinets in the basement of the building where I worked. The birds had been “collected” more than a century before, then given to the university.

Discussing an extinct species bears no resemblance to holding one. Without telling the students why, I led them to the basement and opened the drawers. They gasped at the parakeet’s feathered rainbow of red-orange-yellow-green, as unexpected a canvas as a masterpiece rescued from an attic. Except there is no rescue.

I could answer some questions students asked: “What happened? When did the birds disappear?” Other questions, I couldn’t. One I asked myself was, “What did they sound like?” From that query, Ghost Sounds took flight.

Rob Jackson is a climate and environmental scientist at Stanford. A Guggenheim Fellow, he has published two books of children’s poetry with the Highlights Magazine group (Animal Mischief and Weekend Mischief) and poems in journals that include Southwest Review, Cortland Review, Cold Mountain Review, LitHub, and more.

The Doodler defends their art.

Doodling on half-slips of papers

Provided under the narrow bench seats

I stare up at the stained-glass renderings of Jesus and his miracles

At the mega church that the synagogue reserved for Yom Kippur services

I repent for my doodling —

And lack of attention to the theatrics presented on the small bima —

By sealing it up in the envelope kindly provided

By the same party guilting pleads for donations—

Because attention is currency

And art under-appreciated

The Doodler is a marvelous creature who roams California in search of spaces to create beautiful works of art in notebooks, napkins, letters and more.

Tara Shepersky explores a “glorious gladness.”

 Die to the Old Year 

A slightly different version was published originally in Leaping Clear Magazine

Whatever I bring to the darkness

—old pain, unquiet dreams

ambitions clutched against 

my jealous heart

and its deeper mysteries—

fog finds a home for it.

And above the dissolving world gone 

thick to eye and field and tongue

if Orion lacks compassion

at least he is up there 

singing, my one 

seen companion. 

I could lose the path

to this dark 

this glorious gladness.

I could follow this: subtle tap 

of maple trees loosing withered cradles.

And toad, canting 

the grey-grass liturgy

keeping 

awake.

I can be quiet

constant 

and I will wander 

somewhen

out of the fog

wrung clean

of my too much self.

Tara Shepersky is @tkspdx on Instagram and @pdxpersky on Twitter. The Florilegia Project is @TheFlorilegiaProject on Insta and @SparklingPhrase on Twitter.

Brett Benson’s fresh poem as a “Poet 4 Hire!”

"Art in Real Time" 

On a crisp sunny afternoon,

Where Laughter and Games are abound,

As Autumn's breath turns,

The park comes alive, 

Whether by walking, 

Playing with four legged friends, 

Or festivities and celebrations.
 

And among the merriment, 

A series of paths link Tourists, Locals 

And all in between. 

Here, at the central point, 

A Typewriter, table, 

Set of colored index cards, 

And a sign reading, 

"Poet 4 Hire!" rest, 

Waiting for the person who seeks a poem,

Written as I find words correlated 

To the Individual's two to three topics,

Of their divine choice. 

Thus, the poem is spontaneous; 

It is dependent on the new person's mind,

A State of Being. 

Love; death; walks; friendships; dinosaurs; 

Plants; flowers; trees; oceans; breezes;

Wonder.....The topics are endless,

As is the human spirit. 

And payment is simple: 

"Donate what you can, Because everyone's budget is different."

Line by line, 

The 1940s Underwood typewriter moves, 

With it, 

A glimmer of hope; a restoration of self-confidence; 

A light to keep the darkness at bay. 

Art gives us a power; a strength unique,

To our magnificent imagination; 

A testament to the ability 

To pour our heart, 

Allow our entity the chance for reflection. 

One beauty left to know: You, too, dear human can do this. 

For the world needs more art and, thus, serenity. 

Therefore, let the wild artist within free! 

Your journey is what you make it to be; 

Let out the colors and benevolence of your majestic soul. 
 

Dare to dream; Dare to live!

Brett Benson has lived in San Francisco since the fall of 2016 and enjoys many activities such as lacrosse, hiking, summer camp counseling, stargazing, improvisation comedy, podcasting and, of course, writing! On weekends, between his Monday through Friday job of teaching high school, he moves his gathering called "The Poet's Corner" from parks to city spots, writing people poems on the spot based on topics they choose which he first saw in New Orleans. Check out his page for daily inspirations called "The Essence of Existence" on Facebook. He would like to thank Allie Rigby for the opportunity to share his newly found passion of "public poetry" and he is also interested in collaborating with anyone who likes the idea of doing art in public scenes.

“Creative thinking is a big reason I could launch our new product of eco-friendly reusable makeup pads.” -Meyya, green entrepreneur

Green entrepreneur Meyya Tabbaa gets inventive.

I’ve always wanted to prompt more engagement from people, and promote everyday sustainability. Thinking holistically is a practice for me that goes hand-in-hand with making new products, and recently, my work with Green Co requires a lot of that! 

Being part of this business challenges me to write original content every day that also aligns with my core environmental beliefs. Creative thinking is a big reason I could launch our new product of eco-friendly reusable makeup pads. I feel grateful every day for the role of inventiveness and creativity in my work. 

Meyya is a green and socially-conscious entrepreneur looking to disrupt capitalism by offering better solutions for people and the planet.

Kevin Dick gives us a glimpse into “Nightshift.”

It was a brisk night. A night in Davis. The front of rain the weatherman had predicted hadn’t arrived yet, but there were a few solitary drops, outcasts from the larger raindrop society to come that had already begun to slowly fall on the darkening streets.

“This town is a cold bastard” I thought to myself. But no one heard me, because I didn’t say it out loud. I only thought it. Not that it mattered anyway. An old lady walking past me on the street didn’t seem to care about my concerns.

The dusty bird seemed to be hobbling along to some similarly dusty evening at home, perhaps attending to her stable of prize-winning snake plants while crooning along to an old Dean Martin record. I didn’t know and didn’t care. What I did know was that I was getting close to the first place I remember having my mug that night.

‘The Temple of Caffeine’ is what the kids at UC Davis told me it was known as. Temple Coffee Roasters, as the corporate board members knew it. But stepping inside, I could tell I was beginning to get somewhere. I asked around with the local undergrads in line at the joint. They seemed to feel that it was a good place to get a cup of Joe.

“Yeah, I come here and pray to the Big Black Bean that is my god!” they sarcastically mimed to me when I asked them what the skinny was. Heh. Jokes. Yeah right, brother. Humor had no place for me in this town. 

The barista at the counter said she hadn’t seen a stainless steel vacuum-insulated mug. Maybe I had left it on the top of my cark, she suggested. No, I don’t have a cark. She must have meant car. Which I did have. It was right outside that night, where I had parked it.

But no. I couldn’t have left it on top. I remember because my friend Julia and I had left Temple Roasters and then started walking towards her studio; away from my car that I had parked on the street corner.

No, this pot of mystery grounds was only just beginning to be brewed.

… to be continued 

Kevin Dick is a Biologist and creative writing novice. He completed a Muppets course at the University of California Santa Cruz in the Spring of 2005 with a final paper on The Dark Crystal (1982).  He resides in his own time.

“I gave up drawing in the second grade […]” -Mason Fernandez

Mason Fernandez gave up drawing in second grade.

I gave up drawing in the second grade because everyone liked Lucas’ spaceship better than mine.

His was simple and sleek, just what the galaxy ordered. I figured it was my place to bow to his superior spacecraftmanship and pursue other interests.

Eventually, I realized 3 things:

1) I love to draw.

2) What I though was competition was in fact inspiration.

3) To hell with that spaceship. 

Artwork by Mason Fernandez

Harriet Patterson explores identity and home in “East Dallas Girl.”

I am wet golashes in an August mudpuddle after a thunderstorm

And pink-brown earthworms wriggling in my fingers

I am of the place where roly polys are doodlebugs

I am the sizzle of Marsha Fugitt’s mom in a velour housecoat making bacon and Wonder bread toast after a sleepover

And the warm spicy dark kitchen where Raquel Hernandez’s mom is making enchiladas

I am one-part Friday night high school football and tasseled boots and gloves for the drill team at half-time

And one-part feisty spit fire channeling Molly Ivins and Ann Richards

I am from East Dallas—the old part—

Before the hipster beards took over

Before the pick-up trucks had four doors and were shiny and for show

When you could still find eight kids in the truck bed bouncing through the neighborhood while Marsha’s dad took the corners too fast, just for fun

I am the quiet joy-filled thrill of a long solitary bike ride to a land beyond my reach

Cool air on cheeks—the only way the air moved—

Until later, at 16, when I could drive and feel the wind on my face with the windows down


I am the other in a land of same

Loafers and purses and belts that match

And lipstick—always lipstick—

Even at the grocery store, Mom? 

Especially at the grocery store!  Do you know who we might see there!

I am from the land built on the mythic dust of cowboy boots and old turquoise cans of Aqua Net

(I am) a girl who would never be prom queen.

I am the letters and magazines and TV shows that planted a kernel of somewhere (someplace) else.

Of clapboard New England farmhouses

And crystal turquoise ocean

Of rocky lighthouse coves

And everything else that Texas wasn’t.

I am the rearview mirror I never once looked in as a drove away at 18

And the unexpected tears that came when I finally came back much later and 

Smelled. That. Smell

Hot Texas dirt and freshly mown grass and salsa and sweaty men who’ve worked all day and fumes from old rattling pickups that wouldn’t pass SMOG and how at once I found that part of me—long buried—that can only ever be at home here

Among the bluebonnets and that wide flat horizon

And the sense of spaciousness and emptiness that doesn’t make me lonely but lets me exhale

Home is somewhere else now but this is where I’m from.

Harriet Patterson is a writer/solo performer living in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her one woman show, Sail On! was performed at the San Francisco Fringe Festival and the Boulder Fringe and her show Unfriending Texas was performed at The Marsh in San Francisco. When not writing or performing, she works in nonprofit management and enjoys hiking, live music, and being outside. She received her AB from Princeton University and her Master of Public Health from the University of Auckland in New Zealand.

Artists Julia Rigby and Zeina Baltagi prepare for Open Studios

M.F.A. candidates Julia Rigby and Zeina Baltagi share a snack during a quick studio break at UC Davis and talk about their big show coming up. Both are graduate students in their final year of the M.F.A. program. Open Studios is November 7th at UC Davis.

You can follow Zeina on Instagram here and Julia here. You can also go there to find out more details about their upcoming Open Studios! The event is free and open to the public. 

Kelly Alsup offers her latest gem.

“Our Memory Hunter”

now the moon is red
as hot red flame
a forest burns
and a horn of smoke
is pulled like lost current
back to the tickling lips of ocean

and now the moon
is pinched as persimmon
ripens under the tongue's
finger and falls as a seed
falls as a flavor into
your shining heart

A graduate of the University of Oregon and Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School, Kelly Alsup works from coastal California where she gardens, teaches, swims, and sings. Born in California and raised in Nebraska, she celebrated publication of her poetry chapbook, when if ever alive, in 2018. The chapbook, from Finishing Line Press, can be found on the press’ website here. 

HAPPENINGS | 11.1.19

1.     The October workshop Writing the Self Wild was special. I will think about that afternoon of sharing our stories for some time. Thank you to all the brave writers who shared their Sunday to gather and write. 

2.    Thank you to the fine folks at AEOE for attending Poetry & Placemaking for Educators. I am humbled by the ways people digested poetry and the power of words, and continued a weekend of rich and important conversations.

3.     I hope everyone stayed safe in the Sonoma County, Bay Area, and Los Angeles County fires. 

4. On November 7th, UC Davis has their MFA Open Studios, featuring the work of Herders Julia Rigby and Zeina Baltagi. The event is free and open to the public.

5. Big thanks also to the fine humans at Manzano Mountain Review for including three of my poems in their Winter 2019 Issue.

Artwork by Julia Edith Rigby.

Closing out Fall Harvest, Issue IV of The Herd!

I could not choose a favorite from these 11 featured pieces. Thank you to all the incredible artists, think tanks, and Herders who shared. 

Feel free to email me your questions, musings, and writing exercises from our monthly prompt. I might be slow to reply, but I will respond.

P.S. You can unsubscribe at any time. Or if you like The Herd, subscribe a friend today and we will send you a free baby calf! That’s right, not just any calf—a baby calf. 

c. November 2019