
There is a time to act, and a time to wait, to listen, to observe. Then understanding and clarity can grow. From understanding, action arises that is purposeful, firm, and powerful. — Charles Eisenstein

There is a time to act, and a time to wait, to listen, to observe. Then understanding and clarity can grow. From understanding, action arises that is purposeful, firm, and powerful. — Charles Eisenstein
Back in the early 90s, I created a newsletter called The Latest News as a way to keep in touch with college friends and family. It had essays, quotes, photos, bits and pieces of personal news.
I didn’t know it was a “zine” until I read about the zine phenomenon and learned about Mike Gunderloy who reviewed and cataloged thousands of zines in his publication Factsheet Five. I sent him a copy of The Latest News and he reviewed it, and the next thing I knew — BAM! More than 350 people had subscribed and were reading my little 4-page, photocopied newsletter zine!
And then more BAM! The New York Times interviewed me about zines. And Tom Trusky, a professor at Boise State University invited me to be part of a zine exhibit called Some Zines: American Alternative & Underground Magazines, Newsletters & APAs. And later, The Latest News was featured in several retrospective books about the zine phenomenon: Notes from Underground: Zines and the Politics of Alternative Culture and The World of Zines: A Guide to the Independent Magazine Revolution.
Flash forward…I hate to say this, OMG…30 years, and BAM! MANIFEST (zine) showed up on my creative radar.
It’s been 12 months since I launched this new project, and I can’t tell you how amazed I am at the response. Folks from all over the planet have read about Divine Intervention and Cat Lady Confessions, they’ve discovered It’s About Time and what one does about Crickets. And they’ve been enthusiastic and supportive about what comes next.
I don’t know what comes next…or should I say which idea comes next, because I have a bunch! I hope you’ll stick around for the adventure.
CURIOUS? SEE ALSO:

Issue #1, DIVINE INTERVENTION
What is the force that moves us? Changes us? Propels us with such acceleration that we hardly recognize ourselves. Is it grief, heartbreak, indignation? Or joy, courage, determination? Perhaps it is DIVINE INTERVENTION — masked for our benefit as demon or angel or a hurried white rabbit who intrigues us just enough to move. To trip, fall, test the waters, grow up, expand, explore. And praise be to that because often, so very often, those big and unexpected transitions become our greatest and most profound adventures.
POEMS
• Transubstantiation
• What Sound Change
• Identity Theft
• Memoir
• Alternate Ending
• Dance! I Say, Dance!
• Kintsugi
OTHER INGREDIENTS: acetone transfers, acrylic paints, Avery labels, collaged elements, color copies, colored pencils, gold star stickers, Golden gel medium, hand-cut templates, hand-drawn fonts, hand-dyed paper, handmade papers, handmade rubber stamps, ink jet copies, laser prints, metal arrow, mirror labels, original photography, paper napkin, pigment inks, poetry, watercolor paints, with cameo appearances by Sir Isaac Newton Laws of Motion, Dirty Dancing, Star Trek, Solbeam, Eadweard Muybridge, Lewis Carroll, Sir John Tenniel, Alice, The Principals of Cartography, and the Serenity Prayer.


Did you know that each issue of MANIFEST (zine) includes a Spotify playlist especially curated for readers? For the CAT LADY CONFESSIONS issue, I explore all things cat, with songs by artists like Dee-Lite, Peggy Polk, Psapp, Alexis Saski, Lee Ann Womak, and Janet Jackson. It’s purr-fect! Take a listen now!

Issue #2, CAT LADY CONFESSIONS
Poor Cat Lady. She always gets a bum rap. No one ever makes fun of Ernest Hemingway, whose Key West home was filled with cats — and he of a certain age. His strapping action figure includes a typewriter and a shotgun. Cat Lady? She gets six cats, bed head, and a ratty bathrobe. Doesn’t she earn points for opening her heart wide open? for loving even the most unlovable? for her strong, independent nature; Her patience and acceptance? for her superpower ability to nurture trust, stillness, solitude, balance? This issue of MANIFEST (zine) explores the oft-maligned life of the cat lady: crazy or contemplative? recluse or dancing to the beat of her own drum? You decide.
POEMS
• The Obscurity of This Week’s Words
• Bury Me in Yellow
• Serenity
• Chasing
• Note to Self: Smell Roses
• The Anatomy of 3 a.m.
• Sunday Haiku
• Cat Meditation
OTHER INGREDIENTS: acrylic paints, appropriation art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, colored markers, colored pencils, cracker box, crazy cat lady action figure, Golden gel medium, hand-drawn fonts, hand-dyed paper, handmade cat mask, handmade linoleum block print, handmade papers, ink jet copies, laser prints, latex animal cat head mask, original photography, pigment inks, poetry, ribbon, rubber stamps, soap wrapper, sparkle paint, vintage photographs, watercolor paints, with cameo appearances by Cassastamps, Vikki Dougan , Matt Fry, Carl Larsson, Nina Leen, Pietro Longhi, Amedeo Modigliani, Mary O’Connor, Pixelins by Dana, Eckhart Tolle, Hattie Watson , Helen M. Winslow, and special thanks to Fuzzy, Calico, Crystal, Emily, CJ, Mousse, Little Black Kitty, and Lola.
24-Page, Full-Color, 5.5 X 8.5 Booklet, $6.00

MANIFEST ZINE
Issue #3, It’s About Time!
Poems & More by Jen Payne
We humans sure are creative with time, aren’t we? This arbitrary turning clocks backward or forward twice a year, assigning time to zones and lines and frames. I myself try to trick time, setting clocks randomly wrong and always fast as if I can somehow control the hours, beat the Kobayashi Maru of time. Even Albert Einstein said time is an illusion — “a stubbornly persistent illusion” — that time and space are merely “modes by which we think and not conditions in which we live.” Of course, if you think too hard on things like that you end up down rabbit holes and worm holes…want to come along?
Then check out the next issue of MANIFEST (zine). It’s About Time this time — time travel, time loops, time passing — a 28-page, full-color book filled with artwork, photos, poetry, and a curated Spotify playlist just for you. Cost: $6.00.
POEMS
• Time Peace
• Moonwalk Writer
• Time Flies
• Time Traveler
• There is No Synonym for Reunion
• This Affliction of Longing
• Shape-Shifter, Time-Shifter Crow
• Black Bird Haiku
• Missing Banksy
OTHER INGREDIENTS: acrylic paints, appropriation art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, colored markers, Dymo labels, ephemera, essays, Golden gel medium, hand-drawn fonts, ink jet copies, laser prints, mixed-media collage, one sci-fi geek, original photographs, pigment inks, poetry, postage stamps, postcard art, rubber stamp art, time travelers, vintage magazine pages, vintage photos, vintage postcard, and watercolor paint, with thanks to the Leo Baeck Institute, Joy Bush, Paul Delvaux, Albert Einstein, Esther Elzinga of StudioTokek, Rowland Emmet, the Everett Collection, Michael Jackson, Julien Pacaud, Robert Louis Stevenson and Charles Robinson, Sir John Tenniel, and Rudolph Zallinger.
Issue #3, It’s About Time!
28-page, full-color 7.5 x 5.5
Cost: $6.00
BUY NOW or SUBSCRIBE and get 4 issues for just $20!


Did you know that each issue of MANIFEST (zine) includes a Spotify playlist especially curated for readers? For the CRICKETS issue, I had fun playing off the themes of silence, finding one’s voice, and creating from the heart. It features an eclectic set of songs by artists like Disturbed, Grace Carter, Barry Manilow, John Mayer, Natasha Bedingfield, and Brandi Carlile. Take a listen now!
MANIFEST ZINE
Issue #4, Crickets
by Jen Payne
Storytelling is in our DNA says Brené Brown in her book Rising Strong. We share our stories because “we feel most alive when we’re connecting with others and being brave with our stories.” That process, she explains, causes our brains to release cortisol and oxytocin, the chemicals that “trigger the uniquely human ability to connect, empathize, and make meaning.” So we write. And we create. No matter who listens or responds. Crickets be damned.
MANIFEST (zine): Crickets is a riff and a rant about the consequences of creative bravery. It’s a 24-page, full color booklet that includes a curated Spotify playlist for your listening pleasure.
INGREDIENTS: appropriation art, black-out poetry, collaged elements, color copies, colored markers, ephemera, hand-drawn fonts, ink jet copies, laser prints, vintage illustrations, watercolor paints, and “11 Cute Facts About Crickets.”
With THANKS to to the British Library Digital Library, Brené Brown, Leonard Cohen, Carlo Collodi, Francis Crick, Charles Dickens, Mary Elizabeth Mapes Dodge, Natalie Goldberg, Charles d. Orbigny, Pinocchio, George Selden, the Trustees of the British Museum, James Watson, and Margaret J. Wheatley.
Issue #4, Crickets
24-page, full-color 4.25 x 5.5, Cost: $6.00
BUY NOW or SUBSCRIBE and get 4 issues for just $20!
If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
come in!
— Shel Silverstein
Indeed, if you are a dreamer, a wisher, a magic bean buyer…then you must visit THE SHOP at Guilford Art Center. It’s truly one of the most unique shopping destinations, offering a selection of contemporary American crafts and jewelry handmade by local artists and others from across the country. You’ll find works in glass, metal, ceramics, wood, fiber, paper, toys and much more.
Much more…like copies of MANIFEST (zine)!
I’m excited to say that MANIFEST (zine) can now be purchased at THE SHOP at Guilford Art Center, along with copies of my books and postcards. Check it out!
THE SHOP at
Guilford Art Center
411 Church Street
Guilford, CT 06437
www.guilfordartcenter.org
HOURS
Wednesday 12 – 4pm
Thursday 12 – 4pm
Friday 12 – 4pm
Saturday 10am – 4pm
PLUS, if you stop by this coming weekend — July 10 — you’ll get to peruse one of the Art Center’s Summer Artisan Pop-Up Events!


When I published my first book, LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness, I imagined a complementary art installation: framed photos from the book, poems printed large and hung like tapestries, a CD of woodland sounds in the background.
I had other ideas, too. (I still do.)
A show at New Haven’s Kehler Liddell Gallery (2017) came close. “Random Acts of Writing: Common Ground” — featuring three of my poems and one photograph — was included in INAUGURATION NATION, an open forum exhibit that responded to the political and social climate of the time.
That same year, large framed photos from my second book, Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind, were featured in the exhibit WHERE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE DWELLS at Perspectives, The Gallery at Whitney Center.

You might recognize the theme of my very first art installation effort. Random Acts of Writing: Pushing Time was included in the SHUFFLE & SHAKE exhibit at the Arts Council of Greater New Haven’s Sumner McKnight Crosby Jr. Gallery in 2016. Its three poems and wall clock all appear in MANIFEST (zine): It’s About Time.

You see, it turns out, a lot of my “other ideas” fit neatly into the format that is a zine. Zines, as explained on the Wikipedia page dedicated to this phenomenon, “cover broad topics including fanfiction, politics, poetry, art & design, ephemera, personal journals, social theory, intersectional feminism, single-topic obsession” and more. They have such cultural relevance, there are dedicated zine archives/libraries at Barnard College, the University of Iowa, Duke University, the Tate Museum, the British Library, Harvard University, and at the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Yale University.
So many publications, so many topics, so many ideas! Check it out yourself and stay tuned!

LET’S START WITH: WHAT IS A ZINE?
According to Wikipedia, a zine — pronounced zeen — is a small circulation, self-published work of original or appropriated texts and images, usually reproduced via photocopier. It has no defined shape or size, and may contain anything from poetry, prose, and essays, to comics, art, or photography.
A zine is a multi-purposed publication form that has deep roots in political, punk, feminist, artistic, and other subculture communities. Original zinesters are rumored to include Thomas Paine, Ben Franklin, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Margaret Fuller.
• Check out this great page about zines: What is a Zine?
• Read: “A Brief History of Zines” at Mental Floss
• Visit the Barnard College Zine Library
• From Buzzfeed News: “How Zine Libraries Are Highlighting Marginalized Voices”
SO THEN, WHAT IS MANIFEST (zine) ?
Let’s consider…
MANIFEST (noun) : a list of contents
MANIFEST (verb) : to make a record of; to set down in permanent form
MANIFEST (adjective) : easily understood or recognized by the mind
Then see also MANIFESTO (noun) : a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer;
and see also, especially, MANIFESTING (noun) : the creative process of aligning with the energy of the Universe to co-create an experience that elevates your spirit and the spirit of the world;
at which point, you might begin to understand… Manifest (zine)!

It was rather serendipitous last year that the first issue of MANIFEST (zine) came out just in time for International Zine Month! An auspicious debut and an amazing first year! So, today we celebrate! Happy Birthday MANIFEST (zine)…and many more!

Thanks to Alex Wrek at Stolen Sharpie Revolution, we’re celebrating INTERNATIONAL ZINE MONTH! Stay tuned for lots of good zine things and consider these ways to celebrate throughout the month of July!

This morning, I stopped along a narrow trail, enveloped by the sweet scents of honeysuckle and spicebush. Memories of last night’s rain skipped from leaf to leaf, while damselflies danced and a lone catbird sang. From branches sixty feet above, pollen drifted down like snow, illuminated in the first light of day. Oh the bees, their sunrise fête in blooming vines, and mine — oh mine — below.

In her heartbreakingly wonderful book This I Know: Notes on Unraveling the Heart, photographer Susannah Conway explains that writing is “a vocation that pays out twice: first to you as the detective unraveling your heart and then again to the reader who consumes your work.”
This echoes a conversation I had recently with my dear friend Judith who reminded me that the life-changing moment for a writer is not necessarily being published, or even being read. The life-changing moment is the creative spark, that white hot moment of inspiration.
The rest, as they say, is gravy. More or less… (Read More)
One of my favorite things about the work I get do to for my books and zines is the sleuthing. Hunting down random (often misappropriated) quotes, getting permissions to reprint, finding hard copy proof. Evidence for my readers — and myself — that I have done due diligence to make what you hold in your hands valid and true to the best of my abilities.
As a student of English literature and journalism, and as a life-long writer and citer, I feel an incredible responsibility to validate as many of my references as possible. To remind my readers, for example, that it was Henry Stanley Haskins who wrote “What lies behind us and what lies before us are but tiny matters compared to what lies within us,” not Ralph Waldo Emerson or Gandhi, and not Buddha.
When I was writing LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness, in which I used that quote, I actually spent six months researching and properly attributing quotes. That task included rabbit holes like the quote sourced to a 1970s motivational poster printed by an academic publisher in Texas written by a retired social worker in Oak Park, Illinois.
I get a little geeky when it comes to that kind of thing. Like a dog with a bone. Truth be told, I love it as much Alice loved going on her adventures!
My most recent adventure involved Leonard Cohen and a 60-year-old book.
While I was working on the spring issue of MANIFEST (zine): CRICKETS, I found a beautiful poem by Cohen called “Summer Haiku.” The poem appeared in his book The Spice-Box of Earth of which there was a rare, limited edition hardcover edition that included illustrations by Frank Newfeld, a renowned Canadian illustrator and book designer.
There were several copies of the book available online starting at around $200, which is a tad higher than my budget for the zine project. Less expensive copies did not include the Newfeld illustrations, and by this point in the adventure those were key.
I did find and purchase issue number 56 of The Devil’s Artisan: A Journal of the Printing Arts that featured Newfeld’s work on delicious, offset-printed, antique laid pages. It even included a letterpressed color keepsake of Newfeld’s illustration for Cohen’s poem “The Gift,” which appears in The Spice-Box of Earth.
I went on to find a bookseller in Canada, Steven Temple, who owns a copy of the 1961 edition. Searching through the 10,000 books he attends to in his home-based bookshop, he found and took the photo of “Summer Haiku” that appears in CRICKETS.
Of course, I was still curious. What did the rest of the book look like? How many poems were there? How many illustrations? How could I see it? Read it?
My local library did not have a copy of the book, nor did Google Books. According to a 2016 article in Toronto Life, the University of Toronto’s Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library is “home to 140 banker’s boxes worth of Cohen’s archives” including “handwritten notes and letters, portraits, CDs, paintings, novel manuscripts, books, early drafts of his poetry and lyrics, and even art he made when he lived as a Buddhist monk.” Would it include a digital copy of The Spice-Box of Earth?
It did not.
Nor did the online Library and Archives of Canada or the Canadian Electronic Library. But on the Hathi Trust Digital Library website there was a helpful “Find in a Library” link that, when clicked, revealed some familiar and within-driving-distance names: Yale University, Wesleyan University, Connecticut College.
Lightbulb! I immediately emailed a woman I know at our local library, Deb Trofatter, who is the Associate Librarian for Reference Services and Technology, and asked…by any chance…can you get a copy of…
Which is how, on May 15, I came to have in my hands a 60-year-old hardcover copy of Leonard Cohen’s The Spice-Box of Earth to savor and share.





NOTES & LINKS
• The Spice-Box of Earth, illustrated by Frank Newfeld. (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1961).
• Click here to purchase my book LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness
• Meditations in Wall Street by Henry Stanley Haskins (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1940).
• The Quote Verifier: Who Said What, Where, and When, by Ralph Keyes (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2006).
• Learn more about The Devil’s Artisan : A Journal of the Printing Arts
• Discover Steven Temple Books
• Read “A look inside U of T’s massive archive of Leonard Cohen poems, letters and pictures,” in Toronto Life
• Check out the University of Toronto’s Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library


The storm took so much it’s difficult to consider — gone the familiar, the known path. Feet so sure there was no need to gauge progress. It was how I became present again, how I stepped back in the moment.
It was where I could breathe, let go, release my rooted stride. Slough off thoughts. Embrace the solitude with just a heartbeat and birdsong for company.
But her wide canopy of solace is gone now, and I have been hobbled.
Those sacred spaces of breath and respite are changed.
And so am I.
So I take a different path this morning and it comforts me.
It whispers…
This rabbit will caretake the old path.
This turtle, hopeful, lays its eggs. As does the robin.
Part of this snake is here but its heart has moved forward,
and this spider writes her poems in the spaces left behind.





MANIFEST ZINE
Issue #4, Crickets
by Jen Payne
Storytelling is in our DNA says Brené Brown in her book Rising Strong. We share our stories because “we feel most alive when we’re connecting with others and being brave with our stories.” That process, she explains, causes our brains to release cortisol and oxytocin, the chemicals that “trigger the uniquely human ability to connect, empathize, and make meaning.” So we write. And we create. No matter who listens or responds. Crickets be damned.
MANIFEST (zine): Crickets is a riff and a rant about the consequences of creative bravery. It’s a 24-page, full color booklet that includes a curated Spotify playlist for your listening pleasure.
INGREDIENTS: appropriation art, black-out poetry, collaged elements, color copies, colored markers, ephemera, hand-drawn fonts, ink jet copies, laser prints, vintage illustrations, watercolor paints, and “11 Cute Facts About Crickets.”
With THANKS to to the British Library Digital Library, Brené Brown, Leonard Cohen, Carlo Collodi, Francis Crick, Charles Dickens, Mary Elizabeth Mapes Dodge, Natalie Goldberg, Charles d. Orbigny, Pinocchio, George Selden, the Trustees of the British Museum, James Watson, and Margaret J. Wheatley.
Issue #4, Crickets
24-page, full-color 4.25 x 5.5, Cost: $6.00
BUY NOW or SUBSCRIBE and get 4 issues for just $20!

Volume S of our 1976 Encyclopedia Britannica collection did not have much to say about the Spinning Jenny. What it was: an early machine for spinning wool or cotton. Who created it: James Hargreaves from Lancashire, England. When: 1764. And a short sentence about its significance in the industrial revolution.
I can still see the two-sentence paragraph description and its line drawing of the Spinning Jenny sitting on the page. What I could not see at the time was the 500-word essay being requested by my 6th grade social studies teacher Mr. Jacobson.
So I did what any good writer would do. I improvised!
What is a spinning wheel used for? How does it work? Where does the wool and cotton come from? What was life like in Lancashire? What was life like in 1764? Who was James Hargreaves? What was the industrial revolution?
Et voila! Essay.
Pulling from different sources, I spun together that essay and earned an impressive A- for my effort.
Ironically, one of the reasons the Spinning Jenny was so important is that it allowed a worker to use multiple spindles of material in the forming of thread.
Fast forward 40-something years, and I am still spinning. Still pulling from multiple sources to form threads of thought that get woven into my writing and creative work.
I love the experience of that process. Going down the rabbit hole of “what do we have here?” and finding winding paths to all sorts of unexpected discoveries.
I love the organic nature of those discoveries — what reveals itself as I walk along those paths. A bit like Alice, I suppose, wandering and Wondering in that strange, unexplored land.
I love the challenge of digging deeper to find some key piece of information that completes the story. I love doing research and following breadcrumbs.
The best part, of course, is when it can all finally come together. Tie off all of the threads, weave the ends together. See the conclusion of the hard work: the poem, the book, the zine, this essay.
I suppose, if you think about it, that make me a Spinning Jenny, wouldn’t you say?

“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction,” Isaac Newton said.
“You leave old habits behind by starting out with the thought, ‘I release the need for this in my life’,” author Wayne Dyer said, some 300 years later.
I don’t think either of them were talking about keys…but I am.
I was walking through the woods the other day, thinking about the things we carry with us. The physical things—like keys — and the less tangible, like memories. The things we carry with us can be heavy — grudges or a responsibility. Or they can be light — kind words or the lyrics of a favorite song…
The wind is the whisper of our mother the earth
The wind is the hand of our father the sky
The wind watches over our struggles and pleasures
The wind is the goddess who first learned to fly.
Often, the things we carry with us are no longer necessary.
For example, the key chain I carry holds 11 keys, three key fobs, and bar-coded tags for access to my library, AAA, and mile-long receipts from CVS.
Of those keys, I use three: house, car, post office box. One opens the door to a friend’s house, but I can’t remember the last time I used any of the other ones. That’s seven keys — or about four ounces — I carry around with no purpose.
Imagine if the non-tangible things carried weight as well? An ounce for that grudge, another for that resentment. Two ounces for that grief, and two more for that heartache. Perhaps they do.
But can I “release the need for this in my life,” I wonder as I walk? Can I let go of those old things that no longer serve a purpose? Can I leave stale habits and welcome new ones?
If I want to change things, according to Newton, I must do something: every object tends to remain in its state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.
If I “release the need,” and there is an equal and opposite reaction…will I manifest positive change? What new doors will open?
And won’t I need a new key?
If you like this poem, you’ll LOVE the Divine Intervention issue of MANFEST (zine)

One – one active shooter present here in Branford
Two – 2.1 miles from my house, all roads closed
Three – all roads including the ones leading to the library and post office
Four – an active shooter is present inside the salon I went to for 23 years
Five – a video of the scene shows the shop where I bought a mop on Monday
Six – it’s taken from the window of the garden center where I buy plants and flowers and summer herbs in pots
Seven – a good friend is taking photos at the scene, hears gunshots while I call to tell her there is an active shooter here in Branford

Night Music
The D key
on my neighbor’s piano
sounds like an owl
hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo
hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo
maybe a mourning dove
coo-OO-oo
coo-OO-oo
the bell buoy
off Mermaid Rocks?
doong doong doong
doong doong doong
Wrong direction, though
an alarm? my phone?
too low for tinitus
its angel songs
too late for a piano
I thought, but
hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo
hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo
coo-OO-oo
coo-OO-oo
doong doong doong
doong doong doong
That D key had center stage
drowned out the others
in pitch-perfect tones
enough to wake birds
and me, my angels in check
while the Sound rocked on…

Apple of Discord
I had, for years,
chosen words carefully,
like one might apples
in the January bin —
hold, look, turn,
feel for the bruises
beforehand.
And I set them out
carefully
on this paper
we call a screen
so there was time
to savor my meaning —
hold, look, turn,
let down your guard,
love.
But that proved
as elusive as the worms
that burrow in —
making scar tissue
of sweet, soft flesh,
unseen beneath the skin
where bruises bloom
and hearts stay broke.

Can you hear me now?
If a tree falls in the woods
is it inclined to consider
the possibility that no one hears it?
and does that make its falling
any less monumental?
What about the bear —
does its obvious defecation
negate the very action?
I mean
what is the value of
scat for scat’s sake
for Christ’s sake?
No matter.
It’s probably just
predictable poop.

Coyote Vision
The shot was sharp and specific
so precise and premeditated
the anticipated yelp or howl
silent, never came
but he did, in a vision
said, this way this way quick
and we ran through trees
hidden from the path
to a den deep in the woods
a portal to another moment
he in phantom form now and
I, nothing but a thought
on a wave of breath.

The Wrong Impression
He ran, he told me,
through the corridors of Heathrow
the framed Monet under a free arm,
it, his grand gesture
to the unrequiting, me
Monet’s water lilies
The Water Lily Pond
(to be precise)
its soft curved bridge
symbolic, perhaps,
of his efforts to cross over
from friends
to something more colorful,
shall we say?
For the untrained eye
it gave the impression of love,
but look closely to see
a thousand random dots,
their missed connections
a terminal romance.

I prayed he left more than a spoon
As the sun rose, he whispered,
I’ll come back if I’ve left anything
then packed and went
as quickly as he did that first time
some ten years before.
It was a fishing trip then —
a last chance visit with family
before graduation and grad school —
this time a funeral, his uncle.
No lingering, not like other years,
when we dozed dream-wrapped
late into the morning……..loved.
But with New Jersey such a long ride
from our reverie,
he left before we had a chance to…
……..a chance to say anything more than
Same time next year?
Should I bake a cake?
I’ll come back if I’ve left anything.
I prayed he left more than a spoon,
held my breath in pregnant pause for weeks
until it was clear there was nothing
to come back to……..not even the spoon
which still makes its way into coffee,
stirs up the memory of that morning
and what might have been……..afterall
had he left anything more.


The S.S. Pussiewillow II is a whimsical machine by inventor-sculptor Rowland Emett, who was known worldwide for his intricate machines that whirr, spin, flash, sway, and quiver, going nowhere, doing nothing, poking fun at technology. It appeared on display circa 1980 in the Flight in the Arts gallery at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC, complemented by music composed and performed on antique harpsichords by Trevor Pinnock. This indescribable kinetic work became a favorite of adults and children alike. The object was taken off display in 1990, but visitors with long memories still ask about it.
From the postcard:
The S.S. Pussiewillow II, a Personal Air and Space Vehicle of unique Stern-wheel configuration, with Flying Carpet attributes, by Rowland Emett, O.B.E. An adapted Kashmir carpet is enmeshed within a light Jupiter-ring, which undulates and spins to provide False Gravity. Twelve variable-speed Zodiacs spin up to ensure activation of suitable Sign, to nullify adverse contingencies. In combined Control Module and Hospitality Room, the Pilot, accompanied by his Astrocat, pedals lightly (aided by helium-filled knee-caps) to energize Stern Paddle-wheel. There is an elevated Power-boost G.E.O.R.G.E. (Geometric Environmental OARiented Row-Gently Energizer), and a Solar Transfuser for trapping random sun-rays. Module is shown in open attitude, revealing possible Extraneous Being being won-over by Afternoon Tea, and toasted tea-cakes.
“A memory I wasn’t entirely sure was real, of finding something that seemed completely but wonderfully out of place in the National Air and Space Museum,” says the person who took the video below, and I completely agree. Like them, I too, remember wandering around the Air and Space Museum and finding myself in this magical room with its dancing machine and fantastical music. I’ve kept the postcard (above) tucked away ever since — what fun to revisit the memory all these years later!
If you like this magical creation, you’ll LOVE the It’s About Time issue of MANIFEST (zine). On sale now!

MANIFEST ZINE
Issue #3, It’s About Time!
Poems & More by Jen Payne
We humans sure are creative with time, aren’t we? This arbitrary turning clocks backward or forward twice a year, assigning time to zones and lines and frames. I myself try to trick time, setting clocks randomly wrong and always fast as if I can somehow control the hours, beat the Kobayashi Maru of time. Even Albert Einstein said time is an illusion — “a stubbornly persistent illusion” — that time and space are merely “modes by which we think and not conditions in which we live.” Of course, if you think too hard on things like that you end up down rabbit holes and worm holes…want to come along?
Then check out the next issue of MANIFEST (zine). It’s About Time this time — time travel, time loops, time passing — a 28-page, full-color book filled with artwork, photos, poetry, and a curated Spotify playlist just for you. Cost: $6.00.
POEMS
• Time Peace
• Moonwalk Writer
• Time Flies
• Time Traveler
• There is No Synonym for Reunion
• This Affliction of Longing
• Shape-Shifter, Time-Shifter Crow
• Black Bird Haiku
• Missing Banksy
OTHER INGREDIENTS: acrylic paints, appropriation art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, colored markers, Dymo labels, ephemera, essays, Golden gel medium, hand-drawn fonts, ink jet copies, laser prints, mixed-media collage, one sci-fi geek, original photographs, pigment inks, poetry, postage stamps, postcard art, rubber stamp art, time travelers, vintage magazine pages, vintage photos, vintage postcard, and watercolor paint, with thanks to the Leo Baeck Institute, Joy Bush, Paul Delvaux, Albert Einstein, Esther Elzinga of StudioTokek, Rowland Emmet, the Everett Collection, Michael Jackson, Julien Pacaud, Robert Louis Stevenson and Charles Robinson, Sir John Tenniel, and Rudolph Zallinger.
Issue #3, It’s About Time!
28-page, full-color 7.5 x 5.5
Cost: $6.00
As soon as I heard the tone of your voice
I knew I would change the story.
Right there, sitting on the step,
with the phone still warm against my ear,
I said out loud “It will not end this way.”
I never looked back.
I just cut a hole through the wall,
and changed the language of doors.
If you like this poem, you’ll LOVE the Divine Intervention issue of MANFEST (zine)
In the pieces of memory
and scraps of conversations
transcribed in situ
I will tell you about
the headless groom
and the dead dog,
about the failure of Saint Raphael
and the irony of the phrase
“you could get hit by a bus.”
I’ll tell you the 15,000 words that broke me
and the ones that almost put me back together
until I realized my heart was better
cracked wide-open like that anyhow.
Now all I need to do is type
Happy Ending.
on the last page
and hope it will suffice.
If you like this poem, you’ll LOVE the Divine Intervention issue of MANFEST (zine)
Grayson Books announces the publication of Waking Up to the Earth: Connecticut Poets in a Time of Global Climate Crisis. Edited by Connecticut’s Poet Laureate Margaret Gibson, this poetry anthology includes work by Connecticut poets, including Guilford Poets Guild members Gwen Gunn, Patricia Horn O’Brien, and Jen Payne.
Each poet writes of their relationships with the earth in a time of climate crisis. The scope of the poems goes far beyond Connecticut to the whole ecosystem we humans share. “It’s hard to believe that the poems in this essential collection all come out of a single small state,” writes Chase Twichell, author of Things As It Is and Horses Where the Answers Should Have Been. “But make no mistake; these are not poems about Connecticut. They are poems about the world—our one and only world—and the damage we inflict upon it. Ranging from expressions of profound love for and intimacy with the earth and its many creatures to grief and rage at our species’ self-destructive blindness, each poem is a testament to our planet’s preciousness and a grave warning of its fragility. Waking Up to the Earth is a resounding wake-up call.”
Guilford Poets Guild poems include “Of Stones and Time,” by Gwen Gunn, “Getting to Prayer,” by Patricia Horn O’Brien, and “When I Call it the Zombie Apocalypse, Neither of Us Is as Scared as We Should Be,” by Jen Payne.
Waking Up to the Earth: Connecticut Poets in a Time of Global Climate Crisis is a 138-page paperback book available through Ingram Book Company, Grayson Books, from local booksellers or from amazon.com for $20.00. For more information, contact gconnors@graysonbooks.com or visit www.graysonbooks.com.
I look
in the mirror
and see nothing.
Pieces of familiar fall away.
Sticks poke at what’s left.
Start from scratch
or use a box mix?
Put square peg
in square hole…
that’s never been my style.
I take a walk
to get answers.
Insert A into B, get C.
But all I see is ocean.
Vast and unresolved.
IT doesn’t seem
to need answers.
In. Out. Back. Forth.
Up. Down. [Repeat.]
I take my cue and leave.
It’s OK. Really.
I was bored with me anyway.
If you please,
may I see something
in a polygon?
If you like this poem, you’ll LOVE the Divine Intervention issue of MANFEST (zine)
Be the change you wish to see in the world — be the change you fear.
Serve it up in bite-size pieces and make peace with it because resistance is futile.
Change comes and change comes and change comes
and you change and you change and you change.
Extra change in your pocket
is just reserve for the next detour.
Recalculating.
Better to live in fluidic space, liquid and organic,
bending time, not biding,
moving from here to there effortlessly.
Gracefully.
Gratefully.
Because an object at rest stays at rest
but an object in motion stays in motion
and we all know it’s the motion in the ocean that counts.
If you like this poem, you’ll LOVE the Divine Intervention issue of MANFEST (zine)
No matter what we think
or how it feels,
we don’t really break break,
even our break downs
imply eventual turn ups.
Oh sure, we bend a little,
(bend over backwards, too)
fold under pressure sometimes
lean into the pain
collapse with exhaustion
appear to come apart at the seams
and yet…
And yet.
Upon this holy ground of spirit
there is still room to breathe,
we are not damaged, we are flexible
we are not falling apart, we are rebuilding
we are not broken or undone.
By the very fibers of our being,
we are strength and grace
unyielding.
The moon and I shared space today
before the world awoke
and though we both were silent
it felt as if we spoke
about this wild spinning thing
and how it does transpire
the comedy and tragedy
and all the little fires
That golden wink up in the sky
a secret shared with me
our sweet spot in the morning
its rare tranquility.
I told him once it was a dance,
and I hyphenated
the push – pull – go – come
choreography
like a tormented poet might.
How clever the analogy!
(And how could he not love clever?)
Watch me pirouet, I said.
Put a spin on this
so the song doesn’t end,
and the routine goes on forever.
(Did you see that? Clever again.)
It’s the same old song and dance, love.
We can’t side-step the family dance-step,
it’s in our genes, and I don’t mean Kelly, so…
I’d like to shake things up a bit,
you know, move with the times…
Why not dance this year’s dance to—
the pachenga.
If you like this poem, you’ll LOVE the Divine Intervention issue of MANFEST (zine)
Damn those little murders,
those small infractions
to which we pay no mind
save for the evidence markers
placed at the foot of the moment
this, here, remember.
Wise or not wise we file them away
in a box called Misdemeanors
until the shelf bends and breaks
and proof bears witness;
only then do we see the trail of blood
from that first red flag
to a catalog of minor injuries
and shallow stab wounds,
enough to leave us only hobbled,
the walking wounded.
In court, they’d present the facts
prove we didn’t plan for this
to any known degree;
a crime of accident and
unintended consequences;
suggest Self-Defense,
and we’d both just nod to agree.
Issue #2, DIVINE INTERVENTION
Poor Cat Lady. She always gets a bum rap. No one ever makes fun of Ernest Hemingway, whose Key West home was filled with cats — and he of a certain age. His strapping action figure includes a typewriter and a shotgun. Cat Lady? She gets six cats, bed head, and a ratty bathrobe. Doesn’t she earn points for opening her heart wide open? for loving even the most unlovable? for her strong, independent nature; Her patience and acceptance? for her superpower ability to nurture trust, stillness, solitude, balance? This issue of MANIFEST (zine) explores the oft-maligned life of the cat lady: crazy or contemplative? recluse or dancing to the beat of her own drum? You decide.
POEMS
• The Obscurity of This Week’s Words
• Bury Me in Yellow
• Serenity
• Chasing
• Note to Self: Smell Roses
• The Anatomy of 3 a.m.
• Sunday Haiku
• Cat Meditation
OTHER INGREDIENTS: acrylic paints, appropriation art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, colored markers, colored pencils, cracker box, crazy cat lady action figure, Golden gel medium, hand-drawn fonts, hand-dyed paper, handmade cat mask, handmade linoleum block print, handmade papers, ink jet copies, laser prints, latex animal cat head mask, original photography, pigment inks, poetry, ribbon, rubber stamps, soap wrapper, sparkle paint, vintage photographs, watercolor paints, with cameo appearances by Cassastamps, Vikki Dougan , Matt Fry, Carl Larsson, Nina Leen, Pietro Longhi, Amedeo Modigliani, Mary O’Connor, Pixelins by Dana, Eckhart Tolle, Hattie Watson , Helen M. Winslow, and special thanks to Fuzzy, Calico, Crystal, Emily, CJ, Mousse, Little Black Kitty, and Lola.
November 2020, 24-Page, Full-Color, 5.5 X 8.5 Booklet, $6.00
(Spotify Playlist)
Looking for something new to read? Click here now!
I apologize to the birds
for being late
for arriving to the feeder
after the snow begins
assure them not to worry
there’s an endless supply
I say out loud
while I note “birdseed”
on a pad by the door……..again.
I am sure the red fox wonders,
as does the otter and friends,
what happened to the horizon,
why the light that’s not a star shines
from sun down to sun up
with no seeming purpose,
why the fresh salt air is slow to come
The gulls know, of course
They see from the sky
the new and larger rooftops,
the wide expanses of useless green,
the decks and porches and drives,
the construction constructed from the edge of their pond to the edge of the harbor
They see even, in the biggest living room
of the biggest house
the big screen TV,
which,
on certain mornings,
lights the horizon just like a sun,
casts shadows on the fox
and the otter
who will never know again
the rush of first light and certain breezes.
Issue #1, DIVINE INTERVENTION
What is the force that moves us? Changes us? Propels us with such acceleration that we hardly recognize ourselves. Is it grief, heartbreak, indignation? Or joy, courage, determination? Perhaps it is DIVINE INTERVENTION — masked for our benefit as demon or angel or a hurried white rabbit who intrigues us just enough to move. To trip, fall, test the waters, grow up, expand, explore. And praise be to that because often, so very often, those big and unexpected transitions become our greatest and most profound adventures.
POEMS
• Transubstantiation
• What Sound Change
• Identity Theft
• Memoir
• Alternate Ending
• Dance! I Say, Dance!
• Kintsugi
OTHER INGREDIENTS: acetone transfers, acrylic paints, Avery labels, collaged elements, color copies, colored pencils, gold star stickers, Golden gel medium, hand-cut templates, hand-drawn fonts, hand-dyed paper, handmade papers, handmade rubber stamps, ink jet copies, laser prints, metal arrow, mirror labels, original photography, paper napkin, pigment inks, poetry, watercolor paints, with cameo appearances by Sir Isaac Newton Laws of Motion, Dirty Dancing, Star Trek, Solbeam, Eadweard Muybridge, Lewis Carroll, Sir John Tenniel, Alice, The Principals of Cartography, and the Serenity Prayer.
July 2019, Color, 11×17, folded, $6
(Spotify Playlist)
TALK ABOUT MANIFESTING…they hadn’t yet come out with the action figure when I was first called a “Cat Lady.” Besides, at 23, I was hardly the poster child for “a cultural archetype most often depicted as a woman, a middle-aged or elderly spinster, who has many cats.” I was young and dancing to the beat of some wicked good 80s music, just being me, coloring a little outside of the lines. And I only had one cat.
Truth be told, back then I thought “Cat Lady” was a term of endearment — sweet, soft, cuddly — not a derisive comment meant to make me feel less valid or valuable. Crazy, even; abnormal and somehow unable to abide by cultural expectations.
Poor Cat Lady. She always gets a bum rap. No one ever makes fun of Ernest Hemingway, whose Key West home was filled with cats — and he of a certain age. His strapping action figure includes a typewriter and a shotgun. Cat Lady? She gets six cats, bed head, and a ratty bathrobe.
Doesn’t she earn points for opening her heart wide open? for loving even the most unlovable? for her strong, independent nature; Her patience and acceptance? for her superpower ability to nurture trust, stillness, solitude, balance?
Her action figure should be quietly fierce. And wearing a purple silk kimono…just like me!
Curious? Then get your copy of the latest issue of MANFEST (zine) today!
Issue #2, CAT LADY CONFESSIONS
explores the oft-maligned life of the cat lady: crazy or contemplative? recluse or dancing to the beat of her own drum? You decide. Includes a curated Spotify playlist. (Color, 24-page booklet)
Poems & Musings by Jen Payne
80+ Original & Vintage Color Photographs
Would God floss? Do spiders sing? Can you see the Universe in your reflection?
Part social commentary, part lament, the poems in Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind are, at their heart, love poems to the something greater within all of us. Inspired by Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, and Mary Oliver, naturalist Jennifer Payne explores the essence of spiritual ecology: the human condition juxtaposed to the natural world and the possibility of divine connection.
Its pages are illustrated by an absurd and heartbreaking assortment of original and vintage color photographs, including a series of discarded dental flossers that prompted the title of the book.
No matter your faith or following, the poems and musings in Evidence of Flossing speak to the common heart that beats in you and in me, in the woods and on the streets, across oceans and around this planet. It is, as NPR contributor David Berner writes, “an unflinching account of our unshakeable relationship to the modern world…God, nature, and ourselves.”
Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind follows on the heels of Payne’s 2014 well-received book LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness, and continues a dialogue about our innate connection with nature.
PRINT
178 pages, 5.5 x 8.5, Color Photos
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-1-6
$21.99 (plus tax + shipping)
EBOOK
Epub, 174 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-7-8
$4.99 (digital download)
LEARN MORE
• About the Book
• Reviews + Press
• Preview the Book
• Watch the Trailer
• About the Author
Perhaps it is the same flock,
the one I met years ago,
the one that startled me
here on this shore
that very first walk,
when every rock and curve,
every wind and wave
was unfamiliar still.
Perhaps it knows me now,
this flock of small fidgety birds,
always nervous or impatient,
quickened by anticipation of
the next wave, skittering
to the beat of their sharp trills,
quickly quickly ahead
never near enough for hello again.
Until this morning when I,
in keen focus on a resting shell,
became for a moment
likewise and warmed by the sun,
looked up to find myself surrounded,
heart quickened and nervous
that one false move would startle them,
their gathering at my feet.
I must confess, it doesn’t surprise me that this is the first time in five years I did not meet my personal reading goal of 50 books. There were long stretches of time in 2020 when sitting still was next to impossible, nevermind tasks that required focus and attention-spans.
Which is not to say I wasn’t reading at all or didn’t have a stack of books at the ready. There was always an active book or two — bookmarks holding my place until I returned — and a patient pile of bookshelf finds, Amazon impulses, and contactless library pick-ups sitting in wait.
At some point, I was able to settle back into a fairly regular reading habit — all 10,466 pages of 40 books according to Goodreads’ annual “My Year in Books” report (see below). At some point, I even slogged through The Goldfinch (Donna Tartt), only because I was determined to read the book before watching the movie.
As usual, my annual accounting of reads is a hodgepodge: old favorites, some young adult novels, poetry, a few lifestyle/inspiration books, and plenty of escapist fiction.
My favorites of the year? Where the Crawdads Sing (Delia Owens), The World That We Knew (Alice Hoffman), and The Conference of the Birds (Ransom Riggs).
My least favorite titles didn’t make the list, because I’ve implemented the Page 29 Rule which gives me permission to put down a book sooner rather than later.
I think it’s funny that I began this long, hard year reading My Year of Rest and Relaxation (Ottessa Moshfegh) and The Book of Speculation (Erika Swyler), and ended with Bryan Washington’s Memorial, about findings oneself at a crossroads.
Aren’t we all at some kind of crossroads, here at the end of 2020?
The good thing is that there will always be books. Come what may, there will always be that patient pile waiting for us, that bookmark holding a sacred space for when we return, the character who grabs our hand and says come with me for a while…and we do.
Happy New Year and Happy Reading.
This morning, I watched the sun rise —
or rather, I watched myself move forward
forward uncontrollably into the sun
The owl went first, the one sitting on a branch across the marsh.
Then the giant maple, her arms outstretched and welcoming.
I seemed to step into the rising myself though I made no movement —
none that I could tell mechanically, despite the velocity of change.
The velocity of one thousand miles each hour, imperceivable —
imperceivable almost, except for the first bird who let out a gasp,
a tweeeeeet! as the she smashed into the first rays of light,
a joyful surprise at how quickly the change snuck up on her.
Or how quickly she snuck up on change — remember?
She, without a lifted feather of flight, raced forward to meet the sun.
The owl and the marsh and the maple went into the light, too,
a face-first dive into the oncoming rays, into the change of day.
How easily we forget this constant movement, this constant change
give up our own velocity and blame it on the sun rising,
roll over in bed to look out the window, tucked under illusions of security
think it rises to spite us, harumph at the inconveniences,
forget to marvel at the wild magic of it all, the whooosh! of day
the velocity of our lives careening without injury forward.
Every year, the ladies at Chikmedia put together a list of must have women-owned products you need for the holidays. The 2020 edition includes fab gift items from:
Wine Shop at Home
Miss Lou Makes
Lay & V
NSW Jewelry Designs
Contribution Clothing
Blendi
and…Three Chairs Publishing!
Check out the video now, then head on over to Chikmedia to do a little shopping!
Part of the Coin-Operated Press Christmas Zine Fair
JEN PAYNE is no stranger to the zine phenomenon. Her first zine —The Latest News — came out in the early 1990s during the golden age of Factsheet Five and Mike Gunderloy. Since those early days writing The Latest News, Jen has enjoyed putting her writing out into the world through the online lit/art journal Creative Soup, her blog Random Acts of Writing, and as part of art installations, literary magazines, and anthologies. Her most recent effort, Three Chairs Publishing, is a vehicle for her four published books and other creative projects, like MANIFEST (zine).
Click below to read the full interview by Coin-Operated Press!
As the cold winter nights draw in, Coin-Operated Press is showcasing fellow zine-makers just in time for the Hollyday season! Their first annual Christmas Zine Fair is online THIS weekend, Saturday December 5 and Sunday December 6.
Visit the Christmas Zine Fair to check out our zine-makers at their virtual tables.
The folks at Coin-Operated Press will be live throughout the day with loads of cool zine happenings! So, do visit the fair a few times, and/or make sure you turn on your notification for this event on Facebook so you don’t miss out on any of the festive fun!

MANIFEST (zine) will make a special appearance on Sunday at 6am GMT. We’ll add a link when we’re live!
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 5
10:00 Welcome/Opening Post from Coin-Op Press
11:00 Christmas Zine Shop Launch
12:00 Caw & Paw
13:00 Charlie Birch
14:00 Chloe Henderson
15:00 Drawn Poorly Zine
16:00 Dungeon Maven Games
17:00 Coin-Operated Press Interview Video on YouTube
18:00 Echo Zines
19:00 Fuzzy Cherry Zines
20:00 Thank you for coming/see you tomorrow from Coin-Op Press
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 6
10am Welcome/Opening Post Day 2
11:00 MANIFEST (zine)
12:00 Mini-Komix
13:00 Regional by Sam
14:00 Sean Dempsey
15:00 Sublunam
16:00 Tentaclerental
17:00 Weirdo Brigade
19:00 Thank you for coming/goodbye from Coin-Op Press!
MANIFEST (zine) presents Cat Lady Confessions, a full-color exposé that explores the oft-maligned life of the cat lady: crazy or contemplative? recluse or dancing to the beat of her own drum? You decide.
Now on sale, this 24-page, color booklet includes essays, poetry, and mixed media collage pieces. You’ll get to make your own Cat Lady mask, and dance around to a Spotify playlist curated especially for this issue.
Part artist book, part chapbook, MANIFEST (zine) is the creation of writer / poet / artist Jen Payne. It’s a hold-in-your-hands art installation featuring Jen’s creative efforts along with inspirational quotes, and bits and pieces of whatnot that rise to the surface as she meditates on a theme.
Layered with colors, textures, and meanings, each issue is handmade then color-copied and embellished. The result is a thought-full, tactile journey with nooks and crannies for you to discover along the way.
Cat Lady Confessions costs $6.00, but you can subscribe to MANIFEST (zine) and get four issues for just $20.00. Support the project as a $30.00 Sponsor and get four issues plus a special gift!
CLICK HERE for more information or order your copy today!
Issue #2, CAT LADY CONFESSIONS
explores the oft-maligned life of the cat lady: crazy or contemplative? recluse or dancing to the beat of her own drum? You decide. Includes a curated Spotify playlist. (Color, 24-page booklet)
This morning, not feeling particularly one way or the other, I took a walk in the woods. My Eeyore-gray rain jacket seemed enough, I thought, until the louder rains came. So, I tucked myself under the branches of a sweet, young hemlock who smelled green and damp and seemed not to mind me much. I was less alone than one might imagine, there on the torrential edge of morning — in the air, I could smell the fox lingering and musing to herself on my wet and getting wetter predicament. I think I heard her laugh. Then the storm subsided just enough for me to start again, and so I did, up and towards the simmering pond when there — just around the bend — I spied the bobbing yellow coat of a kindred spirit. He sloshed through a puddle or two, and nodded with a smile that said Hallo as we passed. Hallo I smiled back, good thinking, that umbrella. Yes, yes. Good thinking and good morning.
This year — oh this year — has been challenging. The pandemic seeps into all of the nooks and crannies, as silent as air but as powerful as water. It brings with it immediate and obvious damage; it slowly wears away at what we thought bedrock; with time and time and time, it creates fissures and chasms.
But just like water, the pandemic also brings change. It washes away what was stagnant; reveals the things we were needing to see; carries with it a different way of moving around in this world. And in that way, creates new life…even when it seems to not.
The challenge, as we wait for this sickness to ebb, is to settle into the contradiction. To get comfortable with the unknowing, to sink our bare feet into the here and now, to consider what we might find hidden in the flotsam and jetsam.
And in that way, no matter, here on this day of Thanksgiving, we are — each of us — able to give thanks.
Thanks for struggle and challenge.
Thanks for breathe and the semblance of health.
Thanks for the clamor of the world still turning.
Thanks for the silence of stillness.
Thanks for what we let go.
and thanks for what we hold dear.
Happy Thanksgiving
with Love,
![]()
Every year, the ladies at Chikmedia put together a list of must have women-owned products you need for the holidays. The 2020 edition includes fab gift items from:
Wine Shop at Home
Miss Lou Makes
Lay & V
NSW Jewelry Designs
Contribution Clothing
Blendi
and…Three Chairs Publishing!
Check out the video now, then head on over to Chikmedia to do a little shopping!
Poems & Musings by Jen Payne
80+ Original & Vintage Color Photographs
Would God floss? Do spiders sing? Can you see the Universe in your reflection?
Part social commentary, part lament, the poems in Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind are, at their heart, love poems to the something greater within all of us. Inspired by Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, and Mary Oliver, naturalist Jennifer Payne explores the essence of spiritual ecology: the human condition juxtaposed to the natural world and the possibility of divine connection.
Its pages are illustrated by an absurd and heartbreaking assortment of original and vintage color photographs, including a series of discarded dental flossers that prompted the title of the book.
No matter your faith or following, the poems and musings in Evidence of Flossing speak to the common heart that beats in you and in me, in the woods and on the streets, across oceans and around this planet. It is, as NPR contributor David Berner writes, “an unflinching account of our unshakeable relationship to the modern world…God, nature, and ourselves.”
Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind follows on the heels of Payne’s 2014 well-received book LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness, and continues a dialogue about our innate connection with nature.
PRINT
178 pages, 5.5 x 8.5, Color Photos
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-1-6
$21.99 (plus tax + shipping)
EBOOK
Epub, 174 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-7-8
$4.99 (digital download)
LEARN MORE
• About the Book
• Reviews + Press
• Preview the Book
• Watch the Trailer
• About the Author
As we watch the fall colors wane and this long, long year slowly fades into winter, I find myself thinking about comfort.
my grandmother’s afghan draped across my lap
cinnamon rolls baking and hot coffee brewing
a favorite sweater, its sleeves stretched long and collar pulled up
roast chicken and red wine for a while, and candles
“Can’t we just not deal for a while and take refuge in a pile of pillows and blankets?” writes Jessie and Nathaniel Kressen in their book Blanket Fort: Growing Up is Optional.
A blanket fort? Yes, that too! I’ve spent some time this fall researching and sketching and making a pile of linens and pillows for a reading nook.
There is no rest for the weary.
And make no mistake…we are weary.
That’s probably why I clicked with interest on the CBS News link What can the hibernation of bears teach humans?
“With so much uncertainty in the world – from the pandemic to politics – it’s hard not to be a little envious of hibernators. For humans, it’s bound to be a challenging winter. But for the bears? It’ll be a blur. They’ll essentially get to skip it all, curled up in their dens, awaiting a sunnier spring.”
Sing ho for the life of a bear?
Or…sing ho for a life that includes a chance to slow down a little. Curl under a favorite afghan, sip hot cup of coffee (or red wine)…and rest, read, and regenerate for the year ahead.
With that in mind, please visit the Three Chairs Publishing online shop today! We’ve got plenty of good reading materials, just in time for winter, the holidays, or your own personal hibernation…whichever comes first.
With Love, Jen
This is Joe. Joe reads books. Be like Joe. Visit 3 Chairs Publishing’s online SHOP to buy books today!
The 6am bird outside my window
knows nothing of this angst,
the heavy beat of my heart,
it just sings
peter-peter-peter
peter-peter-peter
and sings some more,
but I have no song
not this day, not this week
I am speechless
and songless
and almost…
almost
hopeless.
Do you think the titmouse
would still sing if it
could see the foreshadow of winter,
the deception of sunshine days,
and the unkind cold of darkness?
Would the lilt of
peter-peter-peter
peter-peter-peter
be just as joyful,
playful even as birds skip
from branch to branch
this November morning?
Will I be joyful
or playful even, in the shadow
of what comes or doesn’t come,
what hides hungry in wait,
or what the fresh sky offers
as holy compensation?
Poetry by Jennifer A. Payne
“Not till we are lost, in other words not till
we have lost the world, do we begin to find
ourselves, and realize where we are
and the infinite extent of our relations.”
— Henry David Thoreau
Written from the shoreline of Connecticut and the wide and windswept beaches of Cape Cod, this book is an intimate look at life transitions and how we cope with the unexpected.
Reflecting on the sudden loss of a close friend, author Jen Payne returns, as she does in her past books LOOK UP! and Evidence of Flossing, to the solace of nature. On the opening pages, she allows the poet Rilke to remind the reader “Through the empty branches the sky remains. It is what you have. Be earth now, and evensong. Be the ground lying under that sky.”
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In the long space between cars
from the Sunday road,
I could hear the bell buoy
just off shore,
the breeze from the Sound
pushed curtains aside
allowing a view south
to see, from my window,
the fall migration,
to wonder at how things change
so quickly and so slowly
while I folded, carefully,
in meditation……….and mediation
each and every sheet
in my possession
the cool cottons and soft flannels,
the cooperative flats,
and grumbly fitteds
housekeeping
housekeeping
housekeeping
as if in the folding
I could lose the grief,
misplace the pain,
find comfort in neat tucked corners
and sweet even stacks
knowing that they’ll return —
the birds — in spring,
and life goes on.
Humans love a good fight. We love our teams, our good guys and bad guys, our us and thems so much we forget very quickly that we are all the same. We are all humans — even those of us who desperately try to separate ourselves from the mass of idiocracy. See, even THAT is a fight.
But understanding that — understanding that when I talk about “the idiots” I am setting myself up against them, against you — doing that kind of work, requires us to dig deep. Really deep. To step out of all of the labels and uniforms we wear, and walk naked into a different kind of understanding that our media, our gurus and heroes, our friends and neighbors cannot translate for us.
Many years ago, my dear friend Dale Carlson, introduced me to the writings of Krishnamurti. Jiddu Krishnamurti was an Indian speaker and writer, and is regarded globally as one of the greatest thinkers and religious teachers of all time.
His writings and talks are profound. Profound in the manner that requires you to leave your thinking-self at the door and settle into WHAT he is saying, because it is unlike anything you have heard before. At least I hadn’t.
In trying times like these, we need someone like Krishnamurti who can lead us out of our petty arguments, our us-versus-them mentality, our my-way-or-the-highway arrogance, and help us find a better way to exist here on this very small part of the infinite Universe.
I found myself this morning sifting through old Krishnamurti quotes, trying to find the ones that would bring me to a different understanding during these difficult days, that would help me meditate on my own role in the hatred and division, that might lead me down a better path.
I have been here before. Have you?
Are you curious? Dale recommends The Book of Life: Daily Meditations with Krishnamurti as a good starting point, but I always find her young adult books to be easy primers…maybe Relationships. To Oneself, to Others, to the World. You can find that and other K books on the Krishnamurti Foundation of America website.
For more about K in general, you might also want to visit jkrishnamurti.org.
We have a long road ahead of us, folks — win or lose, lose or win — and I think Krishnamurti would make a good traveling companion for all of us.
We see the world of hate taking its harvest at the present. This world of hate has been created by our fathers and their forefathers and by us. Thus, ignorance stretches indefinitely into the past. It has not come into being by itself. It is the outcome of human ignorance, a historical process, isn’t it? We as individuals have cooperated with our ancestors, who, with their forefathers, set going this process of hate, fear, greed, and so on. Now, as individuals, we partake of this world of hate so long as we, individually, indulge in it. The world, then, is an extension of yourself. If you as an individual desire to destroy hate, then you as an individual must cease hating. To destroy hate, you must dissociate yourself from hate in all its gross and subtle forms, and so long as you are caught up in it you are part of that world of ignorance and fear. Then the world is an extension of yourself, yourself duplicated and multiplied. The world does not exist apart from the individual. It may exist as an idea, as a state, as a social organization, but to carry out that idea, to make that social or religious organization function, there must be the individual. His ignorance, his greed, and his fear maintain the structure of ignorance, greed, and hate. If the individual changes, can he affect the world, the world of hate, greed, and so on? The world is an extension of yourself so long as you are thoughtless, caught up in ignorance, hate, greed, but when you are earnest, thoughtful, and aware, there is not only a dissociation from those ugly causes that create pain and sorrow, but also in that understanding there is a completeness, a wholeness.
— The Book of Life, J. Krishnamurti
Then there is the fundamental question of man’s relationship to man. This relationship is society, the society which we have created through our envy, greed, hatred, brutality, competition and violence. Our chosen relationship to society, based on a life of battle, of wars, of conflict, of violence, of aggression, has gone on for thousands of years and has become our daily life, in the office, at home, in the factory, in churches. We have invented a morality out of this conflict, but it is no morality at all, it is a morality of respectability, which has no meaning whatsoever. You go to church and love your neighbor there and in the office you destroy him. When there are nationalistic differences based on ideas, opinions, prejudices, a society in which there is terrible injustice, inequality -we all know this, we are terribly aware of all this- aware of the war that is going on, of the action of the politicians and the economists trying to bring order out of disorder, we are aware of this. And we say, ‘What can we do?’ We are aware that we have chosen a way of life that leads ultimately to the field of murder. We have probably asked this, if we are at all serious, a thousand times but we say ‘I, as a human being, can’t do anything. What can I do faced with this colossal machine?’ When one puts a question to oneself such as ‘What can I do?’ I think one is putting the wrong question. To that there is no answer. If you do answer it then you will form an organization, belong to something, commit yourself to a particular course of political, economic, social action; and you are back again in the same old circle in your particular organization with its presidents, secretaries, money, its own little group, against all other groups. We are caught in this. ‘What can I do?’ is a totally wrong question, you can’t do a thing when you put the question that way. But you can, when you actually see (as you see the microphone and the speaker sitting here) actually see that each one of us is responsible for the war that is going on in the Far East, and that it is not the Americans, nor the Vietnamese, nor the Communists, but you and I who are responsible, actually, desperately responsible for what is going on in the world, not only there but everywhere. We are responsible for the politicians, whom we have brought into being, responsible for the army which is trained to kill, responsible for all our actions, conscious or unconscious.
—Talks in Europe 1968, Social Responsibility, J. Krishnamurti
at the slow rough edge
that separates
night from day
and sleep from wake
there is a rumble
a deep, low grumble
that comes in short bursts
……….rummm-bmm-bmm-bmm
……….rummm-bmm-bmm-bmm
a……….rummmm rummmm
……….rummmm rummmm
or short series of
……….bmm bmm bmm
like heavy footsteps
approaching
you’ll cast doubt, I know,
but are you awake like me,
alert at that rough edge and
startled by its stirring?
its clamoring
louder and louder?
its fire breath
the final proof
that something wakes
at the rough edge of day
It was just the other summer day
I wondered if your hair turned gray.
If you loved her still enough to stay.
And then as if in cue today,
I saw your car pass my way.
That telltale glance gave you away,
the smile that always could betray.
And I, with so much left to say,
kept still and let this poem aweigh.
EVIDENCE OF FLOSSING: What We Leave Behind
Poems & Musings by Jen Payne
80+ Original & Vintage Color Photographs
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178 pages, 5.5 x 8.5, Color Photos
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-1-6
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ISBN: 978-0-9905651-7-8
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Video soundtrack: Forest Chorus, by Quiet Corral.
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Alive without breath,
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking.
My nephew, fresh from the pages of Tolkien,
sees a fish carcass on the beach,
predicts Gollum! though we both wonder.
He considers the waves left from a storm,
the wind that blows us each askew,
thinks with furrowed brow, like me
as I sift through those things I know:
the trespass of raw sewage
and slick film of leached oil,
the change of warming waters,
our persistent lack of rain.
But he’s off on a new adventure now,
throwing boulders with grunts and gasps,
Take that! he yells, a holler into the wind
as loud as mine would be if allowed
to grieve the things he cannot see.
75 ESSAYS & POEMS by
Branford, Connecticut Writer Jen Payne
Nature – Balance – Spirituality – Connection
100 ORIGINAL COLOR PHOTOS
of the Woods & Shoreline of Connecticut
QUOTATIONS by Philosophers, Poets
Naturalists, and Treasured Writers
PREVIEW LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness NOW and discover one woman’s reconnection with Nature, told through essays and poems by writer Jennifer Payne, and illustrated by 100 stunning, full-color photographs of the woods and shoreline of Connecticut.
LOOK UP! narrates Jen’s personal journey from running her own business 24/7 to the rediscovery of the joys she knew as a child playing outdoors and a new connection with the world around her. Follow along on this journey, season by season, through journaled reflections about nature, life, breath, mindfulness, balance, spirit.
Woven in between, you’ll meet kindred spirits like Emily Dickinson, Henry David Thoreau, and Walt Whitman — each one expressing his or her own connection with Nature. From ancient texts including the Bible and the Dhammapada to contemporary teachers like the Dalai Lama and Jon Kabat-Zinn, from the writings of Shakespeare to current-day authors, naturalists, artists and bloggers — you will come to understand the vast and wonderful lessons to be learned in the natural world.
“When I finally learned to look up,” Jen writes, “I found my way back to that spirit who loved to play outside, who was curious about her surroundings, whose imagination knew no boundaries. When I finally learned to look up, I found much more — peace, solace, joy, connection.”
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288 pages, 5×7, 100 Color Photos
Index, Bibliography
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-0-9
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a deconstructed garden
the secondary scents
or quieter facets of floristry
often overlooked:
freshly cut stems,
crushed leaves,
rich soil
as beautiful and evocative as the flower itself
what lingers
green hyacinth and dewy muguet
mandarin, hyacinth, freesia
molecules
radiance
sensuality
This morning before dawn I found myself
looking for black pants in the dark.
In the dark before dawn,
I was looking for black pants
and found it apt metaphor
that search in the dark
for hope when it’s so hard to see
as hard to see as black in the dark
that search for hope
that’s hard to see, these days
these days and most days,
black as the dark before dawn
an outstretched hand unseen
in the dark, this morning, with hope.
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FRIENDS 2020
I miss the taken-for-granted pleasure of soft butter spread on another piece of bread at my favorite restaurant,
how it complements the white wine served in a chilled glass so well I could have a meal of just that: bread, butter, wine.
I miss the face of my friend across the table from me, less than six feet for sure, her uncovered smile,
the back and forth of gestures, nods, hands-in-the-air exclamations about all of those things:
making art! writing! travel!
a heron, hummingbird, bee!
life and love…and that bread, can you believe it!
I miss our slow, slow pace that lasts longer than a meal, almost sometimes longer than a shift,
as we nod our gratitude to the waitress who knows us by smiles and gestures that say
yes, pour more wine
yes, leave more butter, please
yes, yes more bread of course, more bread
when the only thing that covers our face is the brief glance at a menu
or the swipe of a linen napkin to wipe a crumb from a smile never again taken for granted.
And so it goes.
I once left a man because he used my toothbrush.
I was young of course, but it wasn’t the face value indiscretion that caused the sudden severing,
it was the implications: swerving across lines of trust, respect, kindness.
We wonder where love goes, how friendships end, how communities falter and countries fail.
It’s in the small and everyday: the one false move that tips the scale too far, too much.
In the blink of an eye we’re careening across the median, crashing into something hard and unyielding,
spitting what’s left down the drain, and praying the tap still works to wash away the betrayal.
And so it goes. Like that. Just as complicatedly simple as that.
Projecting
It’s OK, I reassure her.
You’re alright.
Seemingly all day
I talk out loud
Where are you?
Are you OK?
Yesterday, she startled
when I walked into the room
both of us unaware of the other
It’s OK I reassure her
and You’re alright
but I wonder sometimes
at this grand projection,
is she in possible peril
or am I?
Sims 2020
If one if familiar
with the virtual world
of the Sims,
then one well knows
how task = reward.
One must
work work work
to earn money,
and
read read read
to gain intelligence (points).
Don’t forget to
talk talk talk
and
smile smile smile
to make friends.
It’s important to
wash wash wash
to keep healthy (points),
and
exercise exercise, too.
All of this, this, this
to maintain the house you
built, built, built,
the relationship
for which you
kissed, kissed, kissed,
and your
happy happy mood.
So if one is familiar
with the world
of the Sims,
then one well knows
how virtually similar
these 2020 days
feel, feel, feel.