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A drama of sex, death and vengeance unfolds between three Bearded Vultures (Gypaetus barbatus) and the parliament of ravens occupying the same isolated mountain valley.

The forest is maintained through a web of resonant relationships, to which Hawaiian ancestors imbued consciousness.

My first, Amarilla—cost me a hundred bucks, / I went hungry at that price, but she and I would pass / whole weeks without speaking to a soul… /

It’s easy to start a press, but it’s much harder to keep one going. For Joshua Bohnsack, running Long Day Press has been wonderful, stressful, frustrating and heartbreaking, and rewarding, all at once.

An expansive essay probing Henry Corbin’s concepts of the “imaginal” and “imaginary” in relation to Acousmatic music, using Denis Dufour’s works as examples of imaginative consciousness in sound exploration.

Unearthing stories are part of the mysteries and folklore that feed my spirit to recreate what is and what remains—a journey of unknowns that motivate me to further explore my art forms.

A woman struggles with her ongoing isolation, nearly 5 years since the Covid pandemic started, when it seems much of the rest of the world has moved on.

The question of whether individuals controlled their own destiny was a big deal during the Viking Age. If men were at the mercy of forces beyond their control, how did women fare?

With more corporate control in more areas of life than ever before, and governments in thrall, is it time to bring back the critique of “the system”?

I sketched out the constellations in my notebooks and knew the name of every star / and when mom was home / and wasn’t busy / we’d lay on the driveway and look at the sky at night until the / light pollution wrapped it up and hid it away.

In the dim corridors of the National Library of Argentina, my search for documents on Cold War espionage led me to an obscure and forgotten manuscript of Borges.

Stage the end of the world in your mind, any old apocalypse will do, and this is probably what you see. You have just created “the Bunker,” laid its first brick.

When I ask most Buddhist teachers about the most pressing spiritual question for me — the fate of the soul after death — they’ll tell me that the soul is an illusion.

Naming is an amateur verbal art form, poised between the free-flowing inclusivity of an improv class and a tragic neurotic obsession with every unuttered sentiment.

For a thousand years I helped build our worlds. I surf and slide on electromagnetic currents. I can find my children in the dimensional strata.

Media theorist Roy Christopher discusses what it takes to make indie art and build authentic community in a digital landscape dominated by corporate interests.

Helium three, / fuel of the age, / dust on the moon.

Ancient Heroes! / In silence / You knew absolute unity. / In the hour before the noise. // In the noise / You made me material. / The interconnectedness / of everything. / Bliss. / You thought.

I often think of beauty. What is it? Does it come from the planet? Radiating out of its molten core? Like our second bodies—how can anyone look at theirs and not know their beauty?

If AI is allowed to begin making decisions that affect our everyday lives in the realms of work, play and business, it’s important to be aware of whom this technology serves…

I care about touch. I want evidence of the human. My paintings can be slow to see and slow to make. I look for consonance between what I feel and what I see.

You’ve been vandalized by a rummaging god. She’s become a compacted star in your cosmos, the rings through which you become, like Saturn, denser than before—heavy with shame and longing.

Modern day psychonaut, Dr. Erik Davis, is the author of Techgnosis, High Weirdness, Nomad Codes, and Blotter: The Untold Story of an Acid Medium.

I give unto you the failure of the oracles I cast in the palm of spilling dust / I give you the failure to abrogate our dropping of possibility / in how even dust climbs into the wind…

Both/and, neither/nor, all & none of the above—in a mediascape designed to hack our dopamine reward systems, how do we practice the complexity of keeping cool?

Today I condensed the universe into a ball / A small, red ball that I could pick up and bounce / And balance on my head / And shove my hand through

“Out beyond ideas of right and wrong, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” While there’s nothing of Rumi in this essay, this poem may be an apt introduction.

Each salon was a zone of concentration, an improvised omphalos, and each had a life of its own. Each participant contributed their breath and presence to the spontaneous generation of its body.

The legendary Pat Irwin was part of New York’s No Wave scene; makes ambient country; scored Rocko’s Modern Life; and was a member of The B-52s for 18 years.

Questions for “Mr. Iboga,” the spirit of ibogaine; a poem written following a retreat experience with this potent psychedelic, with live video recording.