Wild Greens
Volume 4, Issue xi
Joy
Wild Greens 4, no. 11 (September 2024)
Joy
Welcome to the September 2024 issue of Wild Greens
We’ve bundled up our favorite poems, stories, paintings, illustrations, and disco oyster shells (you heard that right!) into our Wild Greens Joy issue. Read along and share our joy; we're happy to have you here with us.
“Afternoon at the Belmont Library,” a poem by Suzy Harris, locates us in one of our favorite places: the library! “Book Nook,” a digital drawing by Melissa Lomax, illustrates the pleasures of reading. “All Booked Up,” a personal essay by Ian C Smith, recounts the author’s first visit to the university library as an adult learner, and all of the joyful possibilities this experience unlocked.
Judith R. Robinson’s painting “JOYFUL MORNING” depicts nourishment and gratitude in bright primary colors. “Katie at Three,” a poem by Nancy Murray, captures the poet’s three-year-old daughter’s magical way of seeing the world. “Soul Dance” by Elaine Joy Edaya Degale celebrates the possibility that the poet’s daughter may see a Black woman president in her lifetime.
In “A Legacy of Joy,” Elaine Joy Edaya Degale recounts the inspirational founding of Operation Merienda, a community organization that spreads joy through food and literacy.
In “Bananas for Jonathan,” Lauren Kimball finds joy in the gayness of nature. Turtle and Hatch visit the oldest living animal, a tortoise by the name of Jonathan (born in 1832), and his partner Fred.
The Wild Greens Joy digital logo by Maggie Topel incorporates the language of flowers: lilies for happiness and spring crocuses for cheerfulness. “The Day of Returning,” a poem by LJ Ireton, reflects on the joy of returning to a beloved place in nature. “Potted Plants,” a digital drawing by Melissa Lomax, reflects on the changing of the seasons that comes with the start of September.
Kait Quinn’s poem “Where I Find Joy in My Body” finds joy in texture: touching and experiencing the material world. “Sunbathing” by Angela Patera in watercolor and gel pen depicts a beloved pet in the moss on a sunny day.
“Traversing Joys,” a poem by Sarah Hanson, considers the power of choosing joy.
“Disco Shell Oysters,” a handcraft by Jenna E. Moore, bedazzles oyster shells with mirror ball squares. The artist's love of oysters (and love of the shore) becomes an object that can literally reflect joy. “Phone in Sand,” a personal essay by Atria Pacaña, highlights love's quiet moments, telling the story of a summer trip to the beach with the author's college friend group the summer before graduation.
“Exhale” a poem by Eo Sivia reminds us to breathe in and breathe out, to capture the moment of joy and share it with the world.
Share joy, share art, share Wild Greens.
-Rebecca
Table of Contents
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Afternoon at the Belmont Library
by Suzy Harris
The usual rounds around the neighborhoodend at the library, where we climbthe steps together, cross the thresholdsomewhat breathlessThe quilt by the door—hanging in its glass frame, reminding us of our history here, the deckled sheets inside inviting touch, which we accept willingly
He, off to Mysteries, and Iwandering through slim volumes of poetry,whispering lines aloud as he returnsto explore the shelf below me. The security guard looks the other way.
Books tumble off the shelves, scatterat our feet—so much to read, my love.Where shall we start?
Book Nook
by Melissa Lomax
Digital drawing and color
Inspiration: I have been reading more just for fun and it has been wonderful to let each month dictate the genre of my next book. In September, I have a mystery set aside and I am so excited to dig in! I also loved illustrating this piece, which was presented to a large bookstore client. My collection focused on reading-inspired illustrations that could be printed on home goods such as pencil pouches, journals, and coffee mugs.
All Booked Up
by Ian C Smith
The first of my generation in a widespread clan to take such an ambitious step, I enrolled at a university. Suffering the aftermath of wars, my people believed only money was worth garnering. My childhood was a war in itself. At thirty-five, feeling like an imposter, I entered the library bathed in an aura I imagine religious pilgrims experience shuffling along echoing naves of Gothic cathedrals, a sombre joy. My ghosts of the past faded to a pallor there in this beginning where violence was permanently absent.
On our undergraduates’ familiarisation tour I counted the few students I could see with grey or white hair, bless their old bones, then gave up trying to embed library terminology in memory’s bank to embrace discovery. Quiet space was hedged by a décor of books, books in satisfying order where a swarming mind might become enraptured, this new-found sanctity that would navigate me to safe harbour in the stacks where I could squirrel away knowledge of the ravelled world. Centuries of thought awaited; history, art, or anything else starved senses might devour.
When I had driven up to the university gates, an attendant waved me through after I almost stopped, a blue-collar expectancy to be turned away. The first lecture was delivered—I would even say performed—by a poet on eighteenth-century verse. In a cadenced voice he read and discussed a poem about trees, poplars, that had been felled in the name of progress. Beauty despoiled. Felled. What a word. Throughout the auditorium, glittering youth, our chiming bells of the future, their effrontery hushed, scribbled notes, frowning.
Later, great writers read, wild wonder calmed, I wanted to embrace the force of language until death, death being a recurring subject in many books. Pulling myself clear of the past, I covered lost ground. Tutors, doors open to poky rooms, hallowed in my eyes, gave their time generously, editing my chaotic responses into some kind of order, challenging me to read the far-flung world aslant, another theme. Michael Ondaatje, a favourite, is the youngest poet in my Norton Anthology from that time, my most dog-eared, annotated keepsake to have survived.
Midway through that liberating first year of books, I almost quit, feeling like Macbeth doomed by overweening ambition, but remembering the way I once was, bruised, hungry, locked up, the light shut out, more than half my life before the great reading began, I steadied myself to keep reaching ahead. Now, time running out, this mulling over a whirligig journey beginning in that first sanctuary where, in cool corners, I breathed in the heady whiff—musty, wonderful—of recorded life, that most satisfying odour of libraries then.
JOYFUL MORNING
by Judith R. Robinson
Painting
Inspiration: The concept of being grateful for nourishment of the body and mind.
Katie at Three
by Nancy Murray
She lives in a world splashed bright with green and blue, racing with red to the bottom of the page.In her world, faucets are fountains, And she is the statue inside.
She lives in a world oblivious to normal. Her eyes have a power far beyond their years:
willing rods of golden sorcery to escape the streetlight limbo,giving every man a clone, turning the crisp autumn outside into fuzz.
Do you see it, Mommy? It’s magic!
Her face flushed, turned toward me, eyes uncrossed and wide as her smile.
I see it, baby, I say.
It’s beautiful.
Soul Dance
by Elaine Joy Edaya Degale
Flee from me—your angerYour pain, your sluggish acceptance Of the dreams that came Our waySoar from me—the dreamsThe yearnings of a better worldSo the little girls that look like usCan hope
Flee from me—your vitriolYour dangered sticky viceMercurial lunacyThat’s always made me think twice
Breathe into me—a life A life that whirls these curls to the melody Of elated gleeWoven with God’s patterns and blessingsDevoid of the world’s fickle touch Begin to help me see A beauty that the world has kept away From girls who look like me.
We’re free
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A Legacy of Joy
by Elaine Joy Edaya Degale
When the coronavirus odyssey whirled humanity into a startling state of entropy, the narrative surrounding the evolution of a global pandemic increasingly borrowed terminology from the histories of war and annihilation. Nurses and doctors became “frontliners.” Hospitals and clinics became the “frontlines of the war on COVID-19.” Curfew orders swept through the streets of New York City as military helicopters circled through the vibrant ruby hues of my city’s furious skyline. Our rituals of solidarity descended upon the balconies of my neighborhood every night at seven o’clock. The drill of banging pots and pans honored the sacrifices of essential workers persevering through dehumanizing quarantine measures, ripping families apart all over the world. It was as if the drums of war were reverberating through the entirety of my being. Captivating my mind in a swirl of hopelessness, probing my soul to seize in this moment an audacity to dream.
It was Mayday, and henceforth, Operation Merienda was born.
In April 2020, Operation Merienda started as a passion project when I was in grad school. In Filipino, “Merienda” means “snack,” and the element of surprise is what makes it an “Operation”—#OperationMerienda. The hashtag implies it was a crowd-sourcing effort through social media. It started from a simple, very human touch idea: I wanted to surprise my friend Regine who worked as a nurse on the frontlines during the global pandemic. I have friends who live in Dubai, Munich, Riyadh, Ontario, San Francisco, and Doha. I secretly organized a global fundraising effort among my friends so I could deliver a feel-good merienda spread to our friend Regine and her medical co-workers. It made such a positive impact on their workplace morale that I convinced Regine to tap into her network of nurses to see if we could replicate this venture in other hospitals.
After a few months, we raised $10,000 dollars. These surprise culinary events we delivered to hospitals became locally known as “Joy Operations.” Our goal was to spread joy to essential workers who were risking their lives working on the frontlines during the global pandemic. We hired women entrepreneurs to cook meals for hospital staff. At some point during the pandemic, I had over twenty women caterers involved in the program. It was a win-win: our “Joy Operations” boosted a local agrarian economy affected by pandemic policies while improving work morale of frontline workers in clinics and hospitals across the SOCCSKSARGEN Region of the Philippines.
In the past few years, we’ve transitioned our efforts into public education spaces. Through my partnerships with college students and educators in the Philippines and New York, we were able to deliver a unique learning experience that teaches kids about human rights through food and art. Operation Merienda has donated food and school supplies to over 1,000 families across three public schools in indigenous and low-income communities in the Philippines. On a smaller scale, we have packaged holiday gifts for formerly incarcerated youth in New York City who are in the process of building their academic credentials to rejoin the workforce.
For a woman of color with a background like mine, to dream of making a dent in the systems of inequality that pervade our shared human existence is viewed in both ways: the cynics may view this project as a form of lunacy, and the true activist may view it with immense respect. These sentiments are not unlike the reception of Black Panthers’ civic initiatives of serving breakfast to school children in the 70s. Back then, this initiative was politicized and vilified as a form of subversion. Today, schools all over the United States start the school day with federally funded meals thanks to Black Panthers’ goodwill during a time of uncertainty. It is the same legacy I aim to replicate through my budding organization, Operation Merienda.
Yet the most frequent feedback I received from my professors is that the lack of theoretical underpinnings of my service inherently disqualifies the work from academe. I disagree. It is a project that has brought immeasurable joy to the world, and therefore, I think the work still has academic value because it is a humanitarian endeavor. Understanding the human condition is a task that our collective experience demands. As a storytelling species, the human project is unfinished in the same way that our stories are unfinished. Serving the advancement of humanity will forever require rigorous scholarship and reflection. So why not build a legacy rooted in joy? The joyful stories we choose to preserve in the history of today will shape the minds of the future generation.
So, what’s your legacy?
Bananas for Jonathan
by Lauren Kimball
Digital stylus
Inspiration: The Podcast "A Field Guide to GAY ANIMALS" tells the story of the giant tortoise Jonathan and his mate Fred in Episode 1. In this Turtle and Hare comic, Turtle and Hatch visit the ancient pair bearing Jonathan's favorite food. Born in 1832, Jonathan is the oldest living land animal and—in the words of podcast hosts Owen and Laine— "queer as f*ck," just like nature herself. Owen and Lane's most frequently used word for what it's like to be a gay animal (that is, an animal)? "Joyful!"
Wild Greens: Joy (September 2024)
by Maggie Topel
Digital drawing
Inspiration: This was a really fun one, because I got to draw some flowers that personally bring me joy! I looked into the language of flowers from the Farmers' Almanac to discover that yellow lilies symbolize happiness and spring crocuses symbolize cheerfulness. These are two of my favorite local flowers to see around Philadelphia, and I had abundant reference photos in my camera roll. (I have no idea if these are actually native to Philadelphia, but I do see them around a lot.) It makes a lot of sense to me that these flowers would have such joyous meanings, because every year I look forward to seeing them as a part of a beautiful tableau of spring flowers!
The Day of Returning
by LJ Ireton
In that dream-like way you know a place,the ancient ring of beech and oak was untouched.We knew what the willow looked like underneath; yellow light rain on mottled brown sleepers, that the ducks would drift out from the reeds -young grey ringed eyes on earth infused water.We knew the cold rush of deep shadow swimming fast to slow under the heron wing - it was innate to us that to face the marsh feathers,one must pass the ritual freeze first;kicking and turning in an ice wombto return to the eyeline of beasts,fae-like for the dragonfly weeds for the floating beaks.And now we let go, again -the shape of my water-lily spirit unfurls in serenity next to the moorhen.The feeling is the same as the years before;we've aged, but never the metaphor,the markings on the bird,the angle of the heron's headand all he knows.
Potted Plants
by Melissa Lomax
Micron Pen in Sketchbook
Inspiration: I love the changes that each season brings and in turn, often find myself recharged and creatively inspired. September is an especially magical and nostalgic time for me and I start to imagine all of the things that I adore about autumn! However, I am also someone who likes to savor the moment and will be enjoying the gradual journey into each new month.
Where I Find Joy in My Body
by Kait Quinn
*Editor's note: if reading on mobile, turn phone to landscape for best viewing.
Crouched between middle
and proximal phalanges— the chinchilla-soft patch of fur behind the cat’s earscupped feathered sandin palm and rivering canyon groovesthrough heart line beneath varnishedstitched between whorls table tops
pattern-laced over fingertips.
There is no texture these hands can’t help
but waltz their hungry atoms
across. When an island of good grass lush cool shag-carpet thickin the fancy neighborhood cold creek running through itbutterfly kisses my pupils, I press palm baptismal font of sweat
to her lasheslike a blessing.
I pass a suede curtain, crinkled black
velvet kimono undulating under a department
store’s sharp fluorescents,
& I graze it lightly, sift silk silt from the riverbed
through the hum between index
finger & thumb.
I spot the brown & white husky flurry of down puddledat the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport on polished concrete
the animal ambassador sign begging,Please pet me! & I do! I grab fur familiar as aged flannelby the fistfuls, pluck it from its roots,
hold the warm, animal body close
to my chest weighted blanket of solacelike a lost ancestor coming home.
I have learned the hard way that palming
a Texas prickly pear stings once loud red tendon deep
then thirteen more times—once for eachglochidium Grandma tweezes from palm,
now bated cemetery without cold damp earthworm slick
salve to soothe me to sleep.
I've learned by hand that metal
door knobs in Minnesota's January bite hot oven door behind the kneesThat fetch! & a coiled blue rope
will leave you burned cerise scarred.
Sunbathing
by Angela Patera
Watercolor and gel pen
Inspiration: My painting interprets the theme in quite a few ways. Sunbathing brings joy, seeing a pet in a serene and comfortable state brings joy, petting this cutie pie while she lies there—on moss—also brings joy. Simply looking at this painting is something that makes me happy as well.
Traversing Joys
by Sarah Hanson
Most of the year our love is spread across time zones, our joys and heartachesand daily ephemera traversing deserts and mountains and lakes to keep us braided.
But some days, the best days, we weave all that magic into the same constellation
at the same time, and celebrate the wholeness of being together in the same sky.
Disco Shell Oysters
by Jenna E. Moore
Oyster shells, Mod Podge, mirror ball squares, recycled materials, glue.
Inspiration: I love oysters. They play an important role in keeping waters clean. What I love most is how after you have this bite you are left with a beautiful shell. Some shells are deep and some are shallow—the streaks of purple or pink throughout, the wavy edges. They are little cups of the ocean.
I made my first set of disco shell oysters for a friend who lives in Asbury Park Beach. The joy that showed on her face told me I needed to make more of them. To gather shells to turn into disco shell oysters, I’ve been collecting shells from some local (Point Pleasant) seafood joints, in addition to packing up my sweet amalias after I’ve enjoyed them. Looking at them takes you to the beach. They make you smile when the light hits them. The shells on their own have a beautiful pearl essence, while the disco area does actually reflect small dots of light. They truly just reflect joy.
Phone in Sand
by Atria Pacaña
Sometimes, I don’t realize how good love feels until I remember.
When Pat passes by me in the kitchen, and her hand grazes the small of my back, when Aedan hands a temporary tattoo paper to me with a giddy smile, when Echo, for the nth time, tells me to freeze and fishes his phone out to take a picture because the angle looks perfect, when Brie’s eyes light up as he rambles about a big chunk of rock he found in the sea, when Blanche offers to move farther on our bed so I can have more space to sleep—those are pieces of happiness that I store in the compartments of my heart. I take it out on the coldest of days, the small ember flitting and keeping me warm.
I try not to take things for granted. I try to run away from regret as fast as possible by listening intently to my friends’ little quips and jumping large hurdles and never declining an invite, but I never really stop to take it all in. This.
I’m looking out at the beach, but what is more breathtaking is the view when I turn around: my six friends buzzing around the house we are staying at in Bagac, a coastal area located in Bataan and the hometown of Pat—my college classmate and friend—that is just as one of a kind as her. When we planned this summer trip before our senior year, not long after the relative ease of the pandemic and the lockdown response in the Philippines, we knew, even for just three days and two nights, that it would be irreversible. I didn’t understand until now that memories would not come out of photos but out of the smallest of actions in between.
I suppose how we create the photos counts, too, because last night, we made a fuss to do an impromptu photo shoot on the rooftop just because there were hundreds of stars in the sky. I was giggling, watching my friends fumble to take my phone from my hand and set it up alongside their phones and Pat’s professional camera on a dusty Monobloc chair.
And before that midnight ruse, we posed for the camera as we switched it from photo to video. It was sunset, and as I rose from the water to dry off and walk to our spot, I saw my phone standing upright against the portable speaker we used to hold down the blanket on the sand. It was recording us. Pat grabbed me by the shoulders and told me to go back and play with the others who were still swimming. She said she’ll sit back and watch over the video for us. I complied and immediately splashed Blanche, who retaliated, knowing it would be in the frame. An Ed Sheeran song was faintly playing from a distance as the splashes grew into a water fight.
The tide did not agree with us: it was calm.
Later we’ll commute back to our respective homes, back to the city life, but I’m grateful that we made a rule not to think about our last year in university until after it was over. For now I’m thinking about the white tote bag that Aedan carries all the way to the beach, the Chowking plastic lid Echo uses to fan the meat on the grill, the box of chicken Brie was uncomfortably holding the entire bus ride to Pat’s house, Blanche’s blue scrunchie that separates her natural black hair to her ombre tips, and the minute-and-forty-four-second MOV file in my phone’s gallery.
Sometimes, I don’t realize how good love feels until I’m reminded.
Exhale
by Eo Sivia
It's the charming morning sky that gets me The hug of incredible news being laid on me The laughter that releases my tears And your chest forever the perfect combination of robust and soft I want the happy paws And the winds to give spoon chimes legs to dance I want the vibration of your voice in my ear all the way from Ohio And my feet to jog right past all the other noise I want to breathe in the moment where joy climbs inand exhale it back to anyone else that needs itArtists and Contributors
Suzy Harris
Poet
Suzy Harris lives in Portland, Oregon. Her poems have appeared in Calyx, Clackamas Literary Review, and Switchgrass Review, among other journals and anthologies. Her chapbook Listening in the Dark, about hearing loss and learning to hear again with cochlear implants, was published by The Poetry Box in 2023. She enjoys making soup, walking among big trees, and travel journaling.
Melissa Lomax
Artist
Melissa Lomax (she/her) is a freelance illustrator, writer, and cartoonist, with 20 years of experience in the creative industry. Some of her clients include American Greetings, Sellers Publishing, Great Arrow Graphics, Lenox Corporation, and Highlights for Children. Her comic 'Doodle Town' posts on GoComics.com, the largest catalog of syndicated cartoons and comics. When she is not in the art studio, she enjoys spending time in nature, drinking really good coffee, and 'everyday adventures' with her husband. Pop by her Instagram @melissalomaxart for weekly inspiration!
Ian C Smith
Author
Ian C Smith’s work has been published in BBC Radio 4 Sounds, Cable Street, The Dalhousie Review, Griffith Review, Honest Ulsterman, Offcourse, Stand, and Westerly. His seventh book is wonder sadness madness joy (Ginninderra Press, Port Adelaide). He writes in the Gippsland Lakes area of Victoria, and on Flinders Island.
Judith R. Robinson
Artist
Judith R. Robinson is an editor, teacher, fiction writer, poet, and visual artist. A summa cum laude graduate of the University of Pittsburgh, she is listed in the Directory of American Poets and Writers. She has published 100+ poems, five poetry collections, one fiction collection, one novel, and edited or co-edited eleven poetry collections. She is a teacher for Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Carnegie Mellon University.
Her newest poetry collection is Buy A Ticket. Her newest edited collection is Speak, Speak, by Gene Hirsch. Her work, The Numbers Keep Changing: Poems and Paintings, was featured at The Holocaust Center of Pittsburgh from April to June 2019, and her current art gallery exhibit is The Art of Friendship: Judy Robinson & Kara Snyder at the American Jewish Museum, Jewish Community Center (JCC) of Greater Pittsburgh, from September through November, 2024.
Nancy Murray
Poet
Nancy Murray is the author of One Child for Another, a Memoir, No Experience Necessary, A Life in the Works, and The Colors of Fear, a book of poetry. She is the editor of Liminal Spaces, a Collection of Poetry and Art, and has received the Individual Artists Grant from the Maryland State Arts Council. She teaches creative and compositional writing at the Community College of Baltimore County.
Elaine Joy Edaya Degale
Author and Poet
Elaine Joy Edaya Degale is an award-winning writer who spends her time between New York City and the Philippines. She's previously taught English composition courses in community colleges throughout New York City, and is currently writing a semi-autobiographical novel called Sunflower. She is the founder of a community-based organization in the Philippines called Operation Merienda, which facilitates literacy and food programming efforts in Indigenous communities. She graduated from Teachers College, Columbia University, and was a Frances Perkins scholar at Mount Holyoke College.
Personal Website: ejdegale.com
Advocacy: OperationMerienda.org or https://www.facebook.com/OperationMerienda/
LinkedIn Profile: https://www.linkedin.com/in/degal22e/
Instagram: @e.j.edayadegale
Lauren Kimball
Artist and Writer
Lauren Kimball (she/her) lives in Philadelphia. She teaches literature and composition at Rutgers University-New Brunswick. In her spare time, she plays with paint, digital pens, words, and home improvement tools.
You can find her comics on Instagram @turtle_n_hare_comic.
Maggie Topel
Artist
Maggie Topel (she/her) is an artist and writer living in Philadelphia. She designs our seasonal Wild Greens logos and social media avatar.
LJ Ireton
Poet
LJ is a vegan poet and bookseller from London. Her poems have been published by numerous journals, both in print and online, including: Green Ink Poetry, The Madrigal, Spellbinder Literary Magazine, Acropolis Journal, Drawn to the Light, and Tiny Seed Journal. Her poetry features in the printed anthologies Spectrum: Poetry Celebrating Identity (Renard Press, 2022) and York Literary Review 2023 (Valley Press). Her debut nature poetry collection Lessons from the Sky was published in March 2024.
Kait Quinn
Poet
Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. She is the author of five poetry collections, and her work appears in Anti-Heroin Chic, Exposition Review, Reed Magazine, Watershed Review, and elsewhere. She received first place in the 2022 John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize and in Sad Girl Diaries’ 2023 Fall Poetry Contest. Kait is an Editorial Associate at Yellow Arrow Publishing and a poetry reader for Black Fox Literary Magazine. She enjoys cats, repetition, coffee shops, tattoos, and vegan breakfast. Kait lives in Minneapolis with her partner and their very polite Aussie mix. Find her at kaitquinn.com and on IG @kaitquinnpoetry.
Angela Patera
Artist
Angela Patera is a published writer, artist, and poet. Her short stories and poems have appeared in publications such as Livina Press, Myth & Lore Zine, Rill and Grove Poetry Journal, and more. Her art has appeared in numerous publications, as well as on the cover of Selenite Press, Penumbra Online, Monster Mag, and Apothecary journal. When Angela isn't creating, she likes to spend time outside in nature.
Sarah Hanson
Poet
Sarah Hanson is an emerging poet with an MA from the University of Chicago who is currently finishing her first full-length collection of poems. Her debut publication is forthcoming in The Midnight Fawn Review. Sarah’s writing explores such themes as healing from abuse and trauma, creating meaningful connection, finding safety in authentic expression, and reintegrating with the natural world.
The Minnesota native lives in downtown Minneapolis with her husband Jay, her three cats: Darwin, Waffles, and Princess Leia, and a codependent To Be Read book pile that will follow her into the afterlife. Connect with Sarah on Instagram at @sarahhansonwrites.
Jenna E. Moore
Artist
Jenna's roots are intertwined amongst creatives. Generations of talented artists, chefs, carpenters, and tradesmen are all part of her lineage. It came natural to Jenna to be part of an industry where her greatest tools are her hands.
With over 20 years in the beauty industry, Jenna brings her own instinctive talent to her cuts. She has the ability to pull from clients' ideas, lifestyles, and face shapes to produce the most suitable cuts and effortless looks.
In her down time, she loves to host dinner parties, drink Lambrusco, travel to see friends and family, and spend weekends at the beach. She also enjoys laughing, museums, and just taking in all things visually pleasing.
Jenna is a resident of Fishtown, Philadelphia.
You can follow Jenna on Instagram @Mooreismore and find her website here: JENNA E. MOORE
Atria Pacaña
Author
Atria Pacaña (she/her) is a creative writing graduate from the Philippines. At the age of 22, she continues to write in multiple genres: her nonfiction work is undergoing publication, her poems have gained her fellowship at the 6th Valenzuela Writers' Workshop, and her one-act play has received an award and been mounted for a staged reading at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. If she's not writing, she spends her time playing cozy video games and making fan content.
Eo Sivia
Poet
Eo Sivia (she/her) has been writing tiny poems in big notebooks since she was eight. No matter the situation, she uses writing to process the world around her. And she's found that there's a deep connection in all this sharing. She believes we all have more in common than we know and something special happens when you write about it. You can find her flower photography and poems on her Instagram page @esb.poems She's based out of Colorado where she lives with her husband, son, and 2 dogs.
Jessica Doble
Poetry Editor
Jessica Doble (she/her) holds a PhD in English from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. She's published two critical works: “Hope in the Apocalypse: Narrative Perspective as Negotiation of Structural Crises in Salvage the Bones” in Xavier Review, and “Two-Sides of the Same Witchy Coin: Re-examining Belief in Witches through Jeannette Winterson’s The Daylight Gate” in All About Monsters. Her poetry has appeared in PubLab and Wild Greens magazine.
Myra Chappius
Poetry Editor and Copyeditor
Myra Chappius (she/her) is the author of six works of fiction and poetry. While her passion lies with shorter creations, it is her aspiration to complete a full-length novel and screenplay someday. She enjoys reading, running, cinema, music, and seeing the world. When not doing mom things, she is working full-time, learning a new language, and planning her next trip.
You can follow Myra on Instagram at @inwordform. Her work can be purchased on Amazon.
Tim Brey
Music Editor
Tim Brey (he/him) is a jazz pianist living in Philadelphia. He holds positions as Artist-in-Residence and Adjunct Faculty at Temple University and The University of the Arts, where he teaches jazz piano, music theory, and improvisation. Check out more of his music and his performance schedule at https://www.timbreymusic.com.
Jacqueline Ruvalcaba
Senior Editor
Jacqueline (she/her) edits fiction and nonfiction as the senior editor for Wild Greens magazine. She earned her BA in English and creative writing at the University of California, Riverside, and completed training as a 2021 publishing fellow with the Los Angeles Review of Books. She previously served as a co-editor for PubLab, editor for UCR's Mosaic Art and Literary Journal, and as an intern with Soho Press. In her free time, she loves to read all kinds of stories, including YA, literary fiction, sci-fi, and fantasy.
Hayley Boyle
Arts Editor
Hayley (she/her) creates the cover image for every issue of Wild Greens and serves as the Arts Editor. Hayley is a social justice seeker, world traveler, rock climber, dog snuggler, frisbee player, event planner, and storyteller. She loves to paint with watercolors, embroider, and write. She grew up reading sci-fi and fantasy, and, to this day, she still turns to those genres to help her make sense of the world. She calls Philadelphia home where she lives with her husband Evan and dog Birdie, and she wouldn't have it any other way. You can find Hayley on Instagram @hayley3390.
Rebecca Lipperini
Editor-in-chief
Rebecca Lipperini (she/her) is a writer, teacher, and academic living in Philadelphia, and the founding editor of Wild Greens magazine. She holds a PhD in English from Rutgers University, where she taught all kinds of classes on literature and poetry and writing, and wrote all kinds of papers on the same. Her essay on the soothing aesthetics of the supermarket was recently published in PubLab. She teaches in the Critical Writing Program at the University of Pennsylvania.
You can find Rebecca on Instagram @rebeccalipperini (personal) @wildgreensmag (you already know it).