Fog


The piece reveals dualities: of evergreens and deciduous reds — youthful in death, floating away, or falling, awaiting rebirth. From near and far, the trees see and know each other.

This is a portrait of three cats that I know: Milo, Gold Dust, and Dewey (from left to right). The inquisitive and optimistic Milo, the energetic and feminine Gold Dust, and the wild, yet deeply caring Dewey.

Portrait of a cat named Little Genie.
A poem by Lily Selthofner, Feb. 2, 2021.

What does it mean to begin a day?
to sit reluctantly in the teasing sun.
a shaky early-spring chill
sedated by hot coffee.
as the breath of bright wind
cools the fire of man’s
uncomfortable expectations in my cup.
A poem by Lily Selthofner, 2020.
29,200 days. 0.003425% today.
squeezing by,
importance creeps behind my ears,
churning purpose from a pile of silly putty.
swimming endlessly in thoughtful blunder
each mortal moment
neglected
time transcended
in the idle space of days wasted.
A poem by Lily Selthofner.

once in a lifetime.
behind my eyes i lie
cheek to cheek with the holy portal.
press my face into the ground.
submerge me in your comfort,
knees rugged with pressure.
a champagne glint draws me like a compass –
heat between skin and clothes: disrobe.
unleash your hidden gold.
eyes squinting against my sunlight
as I finally wander
through galaxies and prairies alike.