#folioslcc

"Nowhere" by Ryan Carter

"Nothing" by Ryan Carter

"Nobody" by Ryan Carter

"Particle Beat" by Jesse Crawford

Erin McGuire: Artists of Folio

"Lady of the Trees" by Carl Heath

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 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.