The Blue Jay’s Feather by Gabriela Marie Milton #short story #literature

Image: Gabriela Marie Milton, 2022, Interior of Capela dos Ossos, Évora

Autumn. The day after Helen left for Madeira. The city’s noises vanish in a moribund sun. A paraffin lamp burns on a glass table. The light trickles on the walls like water. There is something familiar about this room. Vague scents of dried flowers. Tear-like motifs on the walls.

I hear footsteps.
I shudder.

Miguel, let’s get out of here.

He put his hand over my month.

Laughter comes from upstairs. It’s Jacques’ laughter. His and the laughter of a woman. She is not Helen. It can’t be her. Helen left yesterday. What am I thinking? The laughter can’t be Jacques’ either. He is dead. Jacques is dead.

The smell of the dried flowers Helen put on his coffin on the day of his funeral invades my nostrils.

I pull away from Miguel’s arms, my soul dark, the tightness in my throat stronger. In a mirror I replace my image with that of my mother. My voice is not mine anymore.

Miguel, with you or without you, I am getting out of here. Where is the door?

He bites his upper lip.

Anastasia, I know you are surprised.

I am enraged.

Surprised? Who? Me? If Winston Churchill would walk in this room right now, wearing Josephine Baker’s famous top hat instead of his, and Bottega Veneta stiletto sandals I would not blink an eye. From now on until the end of my days I swear nothing is going to surprise me anymore.

The light from his eyes vanishes.

Anastasia, how many times have you asked me for the truth?

I shout.

Oh, the truth. Stories masquerading reality: the plot, the characters, the setting, the conflict, the theme. Spare me the banalities. I do not need your truth anymore. I want to get out of here. There are dead people in here, or ghosts, or whatever. I want out.

Anastasia…. Listen…

The geometry of the space changes. Through a little square cut from nothingness, I see a lonely blue jay feather floating in the sky.

Paraffin and dried flowers.

Was Jacques dead?

*draft – modified version of The Blue Jay’s Feather, a piece published in my #1 Amazon Bestselling Book: Woman: Splendor and Sorrow I: Love Poems and Poetic Prose.

Announcements:

  • I wrote in a previous post that I was going to launch a new project in mid-October. Thank you to all my followers who expressed interest. The launching may come a bit later due to circumstances that are out of my control. Please be patient. Much love to all of you.

  • I am deeply grateful to everyone who reads and supports my work. Your likes, comments and shares brighten my days. Thank you to those of you who brought to my attention that my posts are getting reproduced on some WP sites on their entirety without my permission and without any links to my original work. To the very few of my followers who do that a gentle reminder for now: unauthorized use and/or duplication of my posts without express and written permission from me is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Thank you.

Gabriela Marie Milton
Pushcart Prize Nominee
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (ed.), Experiments in Fiction, 2022.
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose, Vita Brevis Press, 2021.
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, Vita Brevis Press, 2020.

Young Autumn by Gabriela Marie Milton #poetic prose #short story #literature

image: Gabriela Marie Milton

Lethargic trees, nights dripping verses in our bed, Baudelaire’s ennui silhouetted against my soul. A young autumn, breasts stuck to the moon, cloudy eyes caught between sunrise and sunset.

There are too many eyes in this place: mine, yours, those of the portraits and the photographs on the walls, why do we have so many portraits and photographs?

Facing the armoire, left arm under your head, you sleep. Black dahlias invade the bedroom. I listen to the sound of nothingness.

I sit in front of the computer. On the screen, Sebastian’s letter.

Anastasia, I have no idea why Jacques fell in love with you. Your mild manners, your lipstick always in the right place, banal essences of Coco Channel on your clothes. Why do you dress in black all the time? Oh, wait, I know, Baudelaire, À une passante,  

La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.
Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,
Une femme passa, d’une main fastueuse
Soulevant, balançant le feston et l’ourlet

That’s the way you got Jacques. Soft black fabrics, mixtures of innocence and mysteries, the majestic air of an untouchable nun burning with desires.

I try fitting in one of your dresses. Why do you pick taffeta all the time? It’s so yesterday.

I look down. Ravishing view from your balcony. The moon bathes in the water, nightingales sing, the air is soft like the touch of a virgin… Beauty and then forever night… How I long for the forever night… the black of your dresses…

I am not in our bedroom anymore. I hang onto the balustrade of my condo’s balcony. Void. Impulses of self-destruction. I taste their ashes.  A mannequin floats in the air. I am scared…

Jacques’ arms wrap around my shoulders.

Anastasia what are you doing in front of the computer?  It’s 3am. Back to bed.

Sebastian….  Sebastian’s letter on the screen…. Read it.

What letter, love? There is no letter on the screen. There’s a website that says, “Travel to Corsica.”

*draft

Gabriela Marie Milton
Pushcart Prize Nominee
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (ed.), Experiments in Fiction, 2022.
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose, Vita Brevis Press, 2021.
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, Vita Brevis Press, 2020.

September Love by Gabriela Marie Milton #poem #poetic prose #short prose

2022, Somewhere in Southern Europe, photo Gabriela Marie Milton

September Love – poetic

September again, my steps heavier, my hips moving with the same uncertainty they did during the time when the child was conceived.  Barefoot I trampled grapes in a red vat, my dress rolled above the knees, my hair in a bun. The crisp smell of broken Gamay Noir penetrates my nostrils. The first release of the fall juices.  Echoes muffled by the cracking of corn roasting on the fire.

I hurt. I miss you desperately. Perhaps you’ve never returned from that September when we first met. Sighing leaves, sobbing skies, cold hands looking to ignite fires. A tango coming from nowhere coiling like a snake around our bodies.  Sweet forehead kisses. On my neck, somnolent bruises covered by makeup.

I cannot stand anymore Victorian self-righteousness, fake politeness – “I apologize for interrupting, I came to slit your throat” – people who speak about gratitude without practicing it, questionable advisers who have proliferated like false parasol mushrooms after the rain. They make me sick. The tragicomedy of this world.  Poetica, Aristotle. Remember?

Here we go again: young, books under our arms, love burning our eyes until we could see beyond the limits of September, philosophy burning our souls, trademarks of Friday afternoons on our skin.  Roman columns reaching the sky at the exact hour when we interlinked our consciousnesses. Pears ripening in trees, branches burying themselves in the earth. Spread at the base of the columns our heated bodies ready to fly. We were not supposed to ever come back.

Why did we, my love?

I steal words from September’s iconostasis. I sew them in a field of dahlias.  I wash my hands and my feet. You take the corn from the fire. The child plays. Blue and white awnings murmur in the wind. The child. The sunrise of the first I love you.

Gabriela Marie Milton
Pushcart Prize Nominee
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (ed.), Experiments in Fiction, 2022.
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose, Vita Brevis Press, 2021.
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, Vita Brevis Press, 2020.

Ghosts by Gabriela Marie Milton #flash fiction #short prose #poetic prose

Edvard Munch, Weeping Nude, Public Domain

Ghosts by Gabriela Marie Milton

I spend most of my time in the house. I rarely write anymore. I remember what you once said, I believe you were quoting: Culture has become a demonstration of nothingness. It moves with a terrifying speed in direct proportionality with our appetite for fame.

Three times a year fleshy, peachy roses are still being delivered. They have my name on.  It happens mid-day, at the exact time when I take sedatives before immersing myself in a bath infused with scented Dead Sea Salt. Dried flowers float in the water. They stain my skin. They make me think summer by our lake: scents of blue irises; somnolent movements of algae.

Nights are cruel. No nightingales. Tree branches hit the master suite’s windows even when the air is soft like the breath of a new baby.  Half-naked, lying on the sofa I think Wuthering Heights. Catherine’s ghost knocking on the window. In the dark, Lockwood pushing his hand through the glass. Her cold hand. Her voice. She wants to get in.  

Inscriptions: Catherine Heathcliff; Catherine Linton…  

I kneel and scratch your name under the frame of every bedroom window. I wait.

The windows start rattling. I pick the middle one. I push my hand through the glass. Pain. The warmth of my blood. The ferocity of wounds. Voices coming from the gooseberry bushes.

You.

Come in my love […]

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

My name is Gabriela (II) #flash fiction #short prose #poetic prose

Head of a Woman’ by Jean Jacques Henner, Public Domain

Flash Fiction by Gabriela Marie Milton

My name is Gabriela. Papa used to call me Marie.

One night the moon stretched in our bed, its lips sultry, its breasts soft like two humongous cotton candies bought by the Holyoke Merry-Go-Round Carousel. That night your cascading laughter made all naked desires hide under the bed. I tried to drag them out. I couldn’t.

Later, head on your shoulder I looked at the stars through the broken ceiling, my eyes plagued by an inexorable yearning to prove my existence. I don’t know why. Those who want to prove their existence live in the realm of the inexistent. They are bizarre people who write love letters to themselves trying to deceive others.  Any trick is a cry for recognition. Any cry for recognition is a basic assertion of impotence.

What was I doing? Oh, I was trying to get into my red dress. I couldn’t get it over my hips. The humidity of the night must have made it stick to my skin. Did you laugh again?  Stop. Put your shirt on. We’re going out.

Anyway, I was talking about the absence of existence itself which always leads to sorcery. The skin of an eel caught in the spring, dried, stuffed with rose petals and rosemary, chopped and hidden behind the head of the bed. A night spent in that bed will haunt the two lovers for life. Like I haunt you.  

How did you call me? Why did you use that name? Yes, it is my first name, but nobody uses it. Everyone calls me Gabriela.

Stop calling me Anastasia. I am not resurrected yet. I don’t know who Anastasia is. I’ve never met her. But don’t get fooled. That doesn’t make her less dangerous than me.

Follow me on Twitter here.

Thank you.

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

The Metaphysics of My Writings by Gabriela Marie Milton #prose #poetry collection

 Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock

The Metaphysics of My Writings

I discover myself in my own writings. I dwell in the beliefs stored in my subconscious when I was a child, and in all experiences that followed.

Yet, my work is neither that of a psychologist nor that of an epistemologist. Beyond psychology and epistemology, I try to establish a metaphysics of love.  That may make some think of Thomas Aquinas, but that is not what I am talking about.  I do not want “to explore the ontological structure of the human person.” My work is not about how I experience love.  It is about how I allow love to experience me. That is the very definition of my work.

Passions was a work of the heart. So is Woman: Splendor and Sorrow. Yet, Woman has more dimensions to it. Some pieces are constructed via reconciliation between rationalism and some of its rival thoughts: idealism, and/or surrealism. It depends on the matter at hand.

I like Woman because in it I do not only allow love to experience me. I also give permission to feminism, and to other societal concerns to explore me.

From Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :

The day I understood I can win, I stepped into hell.
That day was the day I lost my innocence and with that the paradise.

Oh, femininity! You are the goddess of vines, the mother earth, the chalice, the blood, the fertility of the womb. I mull over these desperate efforts to equalize the feminine with the masculine. There is nothing in these symbols that points to the intellect of a woman.

Early morning. I was in elementary school. A basic arithmetic problem was on the blackboard. The teacher asked M. to solve it. He did not know how. I was shocked. That day my entire life changed.

Late afternoon. Home.  After much deliberation Mama asked: Gabriela, again, do you believe that everyone understands everything that you understand, and everyone can do what you can? Do you believe we all think the same?

Highly distraught, I answered:

Yes.  Everyone can do what I can, and we all understand the world in the same way. Something wrong happened to M.

Papa was stunned. I could not grasp why. I was trying to make my parents understand a simple truth:  we all feel and think the same. They did not want to listen. What was wrong with everyone?

That night in my bedroom I started questioning everything.

These days questioning is my second nature. My first does not exist anymore. Life experienced me.  

  • draft

MasticadoresUSA update

There are several new posts up at MasticadoresUSA. For me MasticadoresUSA is a labor of love. Thank you to everyone who supports this site.

You can read the work of your fellow poets and follow the site here.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Summer Reading Recommendations #poetry #prose #updates

Dear Readers,

Here are some of my summer reading recommendations. I haven’t ranked-ordered them. They are all excellent choices.

Summer recommendations:

Midnight With Words: Late Night Conversations in Poetry.

An anthology in which you will find poetry of stunning refinement, of beauty, and subtle meanings. An exceptional recital of verses that enchants the mind and the senses. This is one of the most impressive anthologies I’ve ever read.

Author: Lisa Alletson, Joe Barca, Cynthia Capri, Delilah Doe, Mark H. Fitzpatrick, Ty Gardner, Jeffrey Haskey-Valerius, Rebecca Hooper, Andy MacGregor, Jared Mulhair, Antonia Wang, and Wanjiku Wanjiru.

A Ferryman and the Sea Witch by D. Wallace Peach

Enter a world of fantasy, and with that the mesmerizing writing style of D. Wallace Peach. The book has a fascinating plot, passages of powerful imagery, and emblematic characters; in short the real ingredients of a bestseller.

Visit Diana’s site here.

The Anthropocene Hymnal anthology is here.

Please do not forget that you can order now The Anthropocene Hymnal anthology. The Anthology is “a poetic response to the joint crises of climate change and biodiversity loss.” (Ingrid Wilson, ed.) Read more on Ingrid Wilson’s site.

Crossroads (Winds of Love) by Jude Itakaly

A dazzling collection of poetry written by a young author. Let’s listen to him:

“I wrote Crossroads for all who have not found romantic love and are on the threshold of giving up on it, for all who have love and may be about to give it up, and for all who have been wounded gravely by love and are scared of ever trying it again. It is a companion that stirs memory in reminiscent and also horrific ways only to finally awaken hope and new life in us, where the best love may come to us.”

Jude’s landing page

Update on my upcoming collection of poetry Woman: Splendor and Sorrow

For those of you who are interested in my upcoming collection of poetry Woman: Splendor and Sorrow my publisher and I decided we will not open it for pre-order. The book will be published on July 31. Both versions e-book and paperback will be available via Amazon. I will post the links on July 31.

MasticadoresUSA updates

There are several new posts up at MasticadoresUSA. For me MasticadoresUSA is a labor of love. Thank you to everyone who supports this site.

You can read the work of your fellow poets and follow the site here.

@Gabriela Marie Milton


Cruel Sunsets by Gabriela Marie Milton #poem #poetry #short prose

 Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock

Cruel Sunsets by Gabriela Marie Milton

Summer sunsets with their cruel debaucheries of orange and purple. Concentrated scents of saffron and roses in the hallways. Dates filled with marzipan.  I crave sweetness like I crave you.

Nightmares. A sailor drowned a cat at sea. Someone paid him to do it.

I cannot breathe anymore.  

Last night in one of the upstairs bedrooms the child’s toys changed places. A candle lit by itself.

I do not wish you were here. I am beyond that. My blood flows in the opposite direction. I am the plenitude of my febrilities. I am incandescent.

Remember that scene from Jane Eyre? Bertha: beautiful, exotic, insane, locked in a room. Bertha whom Rochester married in Jamaica. Every time he tried to open the door she would rush to tear him apart. Why am I thinking Bertha?

I can see you walking in the streets of another continent. I can hear your murmurs by the sea.

I still cannot breathe.

My darling, “will you still be loving me when the summer is gone?” 

MasticadoresUSA Update

There are several new poems up at MasticadoresUSA. Please visit the site here and support your fellow poets. Do not forget to follow the site.

Thank you.

Have a beautiful summer everyone.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Who was he? By Gabriela Marie Milton – poetic prose published in Free Verse Revolution Issue II (hermes) #short prose #literature

 Ivailo Nikolov; Shutterstock

My piece Who was he? published in Free Verse Revolution Issue II. You can download the entire issue here.

Who was he? by Gabriela Marie Milton

I met him in the mist of that unusual summer when mama looked more beautiful than ever, and pears grew as big as squashes. Their golden and juicy fragrance hung on my lips even after the touches of the evening wind were gone.

He stood by the fence in his winged hat and his weird sandals, a tricky smile on his face, and a lyre on his hand. I knew whose symbols those were, so I laughed. I figured out he was trying to drag me into some weird play.

When he spoke, his voice pierced my entire body. I felt like a butterfly, pinned, and labeled, and then fixed with a nail on the bottom of an insect box.

“We are getting married tonight.”

Something in his voice denoted an unmistakable hunger to overcome mortality. Who was he? His pale fingers touched the chords of the lyre. The sky started to rain the fragrance of the pears and white petals on us. One of them fell on my left shoulder. When I tried to touch it, it vanished.

He moved toward me and pressed his lips on mine. My eyes closed. I shivered. I felt dragged into a deceptive rootlessness. I could not remember where I was. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

Under the olive tree on the wooden table there was a basket filled with pears. I touched one of them. It was made of paper. By the basket someone inscribed the words: “That which is above is from that which is below, and that which is below is from that which is above, working the miracles of one.”

 I froze. Those were words attributed to Hermes Trismegistus.

Who was he and where did he go?

MasticadoresUSA update

Please welcome our first guest from New Zeeland: a marvelous poetess Rachel. Read Rachel’s poem Invitation to inspiration here.

Do not forget to follow MasticadoresUSA.

Thank you
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Free Verse Revolution Issue II (hermes): Interview with Gabriela Marie Milton #poetry #interview

image: original cover of the magazine

Dear Readers,

Free Verse Revolution Issue II (hermes) is out. Congratulations to the contributors, and thank you to Kristiana Reed, its wonderful editor, for featuring an interview with me and two pieces of my poetic prose.

Below please find the interview. I will feature my published pieces in future posts.

Free Verse Revolution Issue II Interview with Gabriela Marie Milton


KRISTIANA: We would love for you to introduce yourself and share
when you began writing and why you decided to share your work with
others?


GABRIELA: I may have scribbled some poetry in high school, but
basically, I started writing in the period between my undergraduate
studies and my graduate ones. Now, I write poetry and short prose under
the name Gabriela Marie Milton. Three or four years ago, I published my
first poems under Gabriela M. Today, my standard introduction is: Hello
My Dear Readers, I am Gabriela Marie Milton, 2019 Author of the Year at
Spillwords Press NYC, author of Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings,
editor of MasticadoresUSA, and author of the forthcoming collection of
poems and poetic prose entitled Woman: Splendor and Sorrow to be
published by Vita Brevis Press this summer. My favorite poet is Arthur
Rimbaud. My all-time favorite novelist is Lawrence Durrell. My heart
trembles at Salvador Dali’s surrealism, and it is stolen by Chopin every
other week. To enchant some readers who may find such an introduction
boring, here is a little more about me: I love Italian food, narrow cobbled
streets, cats, and oceans. My favorite color is mauve. I was born in
Europe, and I live in the USA.
Honestly, initially it was not my decision to share my work, as intriguing
as it may sound. Yet, things happened. I will leave it at that.


KRISTIANA: How would you describe your collection, Passions: Love
Poems and Other Writings, to those new to your work?


GABRIELA: To me the collective unconscious– as conceptualized by Jung
– represents another level of existence that we, as humans, share. In
Passions I tried to penetrate that level and bring out perhaps its most
important element: memories. Passions is a book of vivid and lush images
brought to light using symbolist, surrealist, and romantic techniques. It is
a book for everyone. It is a call to immortality. It is a journey through the
corridors of our collective unconscious. I wrote Passions – like all my
other writings – almost in a trance. Passions is that which I feel, not
necessarily that which I know.
Some pieces included in Passions are influenced by Gnosticism with
which I first became acquainted by reading Umberto Eco, Jorge Luis
Borges, Lawrence Durrell, and others.
To wrap it up, Passions is what Christina Schwarz, the author of the New
York Times Bestseller “Drowning Ruth,” described as “a fantastic world
ripe with emotion.” I am deeply grateful to her for that description.


KRISTIANA: Your prose pieces often have dominant themes of love and
heartache, what draws you to romantic storytelling?


GABRIELA: Mama used to say that I am a romantic story. I, the subject,
am the same with the object (i.e. my story). The object does not exist
independent from me. Something similar to the concept of endopathy
anticipated by Dante: “he who would paint a figure, if he cannot become
that figure, cannot portray it.” Yet, when mama said what she said she
was not thinking of Dante. She was thinking of Kant’s transcendental
idealism. She made me read Kant when I was in high school. I did it with
packs of ice on my head. On every page there were about 10 to15 words
that I did not understand. It was an interesting experience to say the
least.


KRISTIANA: What are your inspirations? Are they musical, literary,
ekphrastic, or all three?


GABRIELA: Something more than all three together: the plan of the
unconscious. From there my inspiration flows like a river. In there, I find
light and darkness, the whole and its parts, sonorous images with their
unmistakable language, memories of the future and of the past, the sound
of germinating wheat, the entire world.

KRISTIANA: You recently announced your next collection is coming
soon, can you give us a synopsis and explain the impact you hope this
collection will have on your readers?


GABRIELA: Woman: Splendor and Sorrow, is a collection of love poems
and poetic prose. I hope my readers will be interested in this collection. It
will be published by Vita Brevis Press at the end of July. Here is part of
what I wrote in the dedication in an attempt to describe my own book:


My Dear Readers,
My favorite novelist, Lawrence Durrell, once asked:


Who invented the human heart, I wonder? Tell me, and then show me the
place where he was hanged.”
If you read this book, you will find that place. Yet make no mistake. It is
not a sad place. In the pages you are about to read, I resurrect the one who
invented the human heart. The splendors of candlelight and roses and the
taste of gingerbread dwell in this book. Partake in them.
The core of this book is love. Yet you will also find in it philosophical thoughts
on literature, on winning and losing, on hate, on feminism, and on life in
general.
My dear reader, from wherever you are in this world, walk with me on the
beautiful path of the human heart. I promise you will not regret doing so. On
this road you will find love and the symbols that define us as humans.


KRISTIANA: Issue II draws upon Hermes from the Olympic pantheon,
why do you think we continue to reinvent and rejuvenate myths and
stories of old? Do you have a particular myth/story you remember
fondly?


GABRIELA: Oh, myths, none of our civilizations have ever survived
without them. We all have a mythical part so to speak. Myths express
ontological and moral ideas. Their splendid supernaturality reflects our
desire to transcend the materiality of the world, to find our beginnings,
and to anticipate the future. Codes, symbols. Their faces may change in
time, but they never become old.

I have many stories I remember fondly. However, in myths, as well as in
most major religions, there is one thing that fascinates me the most: the
fall. Something goes wrong with our world because somebody errs. In
most cases that somebody is a woman. Certain Gnostics believe that our
material world is not the creation of the real God. The world is the
creation of the demiurge (a lesser God) who came into being because of
Sophia’s fall.
I remember when I first visited Santorini. One early morning, caught
between its breathtaking views and the blue of the Mediterranean, I
realized that nobody could have ever lived in Greece without concocting
myths. The beauty of that place refuses itself to rationality. One needs an
entire mythology to absorb it.


KRISTIANA: Would you describe yourself as multifaceted like Hermes?
Could you use three words to describe yourself?


GABRIELA: Hermes is a fascinating figure. He is the messenger of Gods.
Some see him as the Logos itself. However, Hermes is also the god of
thieves and liars. The Greeks did not leave one single human trait without
a God. You must hand it to them.
To answer your question, I do not think of myself as multifaceted. Three
words to describe myself: I am mystery. Why? Because I am like anyone
else. We all have a sight that we do not understand. Perhaps we are not
supposed to.


KRISTIANA: You are a long time, and very appreciated, supporter of FVR
and other online platforms, what do you feel the online community has
brought to the traditional world of writing and publishing?


GABRIELA: The online community allows people to express their talents
without having to go through more cumbersome conventional processes.
It gives voice to the poor, and to the misunderstood. It gives voice to
those who are unconventional. It allows us to dwell in a multiplicity of
talents. It forces us to rediscover ourselves.

Thank you for reading. Please download the entire issue here.

MasticadoresUSA Update

There are two beautiful poems up at MasticadoresUSA.

Ghost in The Machine by Swarn Gill (read here)

May Your Wings Soar by Andrew McDowell (read here)

Do not forget to follow MasticadoresUSA.


Thank you
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton