crop circle Ian Burt

By Joel Peligrina

We are all parts

Greater than the sum

Of all our stops

And starts,

Jumps, skips, hops,

And crop circle grinds,

With acute minds

And divisible hearts;

I could prattle on

About how we become

A rattle and hum

With each battle won

An assortment

Of moments

Both incidental

And elemental


With a subtle tint

Of fiery Sun

And the faintest hint

Of Moonbeam smarts;

But I’ll spare you

The parabolas

Of my tainted squint.


joel pOnce enamored with the itinerant life of the wayfarer, Joel Pelegrina now finds himself most at home when wiling away the hours whittling driftwood words into wondrous shapes both exotic and known. Each handcrafted piece is lovingly made, carved with an array of ancient implements equal parts archaic and modern, with methods both traditional and avant-garde. Needless to say, it is not for the flea market or occasional arts & crafts fair for which these relics are made, although in such company they would most perfectly reside; no, these artifacts and totems are meant for more personal locales, in the lofty residences of all those of open mind and gypsy soul, perhaps best placed on the mantels of all the inner sanctums in which we find the most solace.


Photo:  Ian Burt/Flickr

Editor: Sherrin Fitzer