We asked our contributors: Tell The Sigh Press something you can count on.
JANET GORZEGNO, visual artist, makes paintings that invent for contemplation glimpses of the human; the human head in profile recurs throughout her work as a symbol for conscious awareness, memory and the space of dreams. Gorzegno also spends her time teaching art and making music. Her current gallery affiliation is Bowery Gallery in New York City.
WISE ONES REMIND US that in the present moment, all is well, even as we face adversity. My amazing father with the sagacity of all his years lives life fully with remarkable steadfastness and joy, and I can count on being inspired by his wonderful example. All things worldly eventually crumble, but the human spirit perseveres.
JALINA MHYANA’S writing appears in or is forthcoming from The Southeast Review, The Cincinnati Review, Lunch Ticket, CutBank, The Roanoke Review, Structo, among others. She is the author of three volumes of poetry as well as Dreaming in Night Vision, an illustrated book of lyric essays and fragments. Her award-winning work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
MY DAD’S FRIENDSHIP is my home, my constant, my candle in the window. His camaraderie and consolation are more reliable than the constellations— my meditation and medicine both. From breastfeeding my two girls in Japan to empty-nesting in Italy, from my ex’s deployments to Afghanistan to a honeymoon in Denmark, my dad’s candle lights and lightens the world for me.
WALLIS WILDE-MENOZZI is at work on her third book with Farrar, Straus and Giroux, NYC. Her poetry and essays have appeared in journals from Granta to Best Spiritual Essays. An American, she has lived in Parma, Italy, for nearly forty years. Through teaching, she shares the power of narrative and the ethics of using it to change lives.
IT IS DIFFICULT to call it a stone, except for its half-finished face. I look up for it and sometimes it’s caught in a tree or still arched over our house in the early morning. Its swelling and retreating crescents lift night from its silent dark. Once men landed on it, I feared it would be altered. But its light remained undisturbed. It still moves all night and sometimes comes as close as pressing on the window.