From the (Poetry) Editor

Welcome to Bracken’s eighth issue, and its first composed of poetry and visual art, without fiction. Given our decision to forego fiction for the present, we’ve felt inclined to offer more poetry than in prior issues. It’s still a small selection—only the work that we felt we just couldn’t let go, chosen from among thousands of poems sent our way.

 We all find things—poems, songs, pictures—that we want to have near and return to, as they help us somehow. They’re a kind of company we feel we need. That’s the kind of work we’ve sought in gathering this issue’s offerings, while we’re all caught up in a chapter of the human story that is as riddled with loss as any.

The poems in this issue have in them the passage of time, the distances between us, the fragilities of our psyches and substance—all set where they are truly found, within and part of the relentless beauty of the world. I hope you’ll find that these poems make good, even necessary, company.

The works of visual art you’ll find here are also offered as companions to you, in this era when loss and uncertainty might obscure beauty and wonder. Our cover art, Violinist's chapel by Nicolas Pluquet, wonderfully embodies the spirit of Bracken. Much of Pluquet’s work intimates the embeddedness of ourselves and our constructions within the great ongoingness of natural process.

I’m deeply thankful to all our staff, without whom we’d never have managed to bring you this collection of works. And I am abidingly grateful to Alina Rios, our founding Editor and Art Editor, without whom there’d be no Bracken!

Also, dear reader, I thank you, for coming our way, letting these offerings touch you, and possibly taking some of what you find here along with you into the days ahead.

-Jed Myers