Lately, I have been thinking about continuity and longevity. Third Wednesday is now a teenager–no small feat in the world of publishing. (Perhaps this musing has been triggered by a significant birthday of my own? Hmmmm….)

I know that I am very grateful that my friend, Stella Nesanovich, whose own poems have often graced the pages of Third Wednesday, suggested that I submit work here. In the past five years since, I have become a subscriber and a devoted reader of this journal. And the editors have often–though certainly not always–said “Yes” to poems I have submitted to them. The three included in this issue (diverse in tone, subject matter, and form) bring the total number of poems accepted to a full baker’s dozen of thirteen.

More important, my relationship with this gem of a journal has several times sparked new ideas and occasioned new work, and even occasionally encouraged me to see an older poem–first drafted in a different decade–in a new way. This is true of the one of the three they took for this issue. One arrived in first draft form about thirty years ago, one about ten years ago, and one very recently. Does one’s voice evolve within the continuity of one’s life as a working poet? It is a question I am mulling, and that questioning is aided by seeing work from different periods of my life in print, side by side.

As usual, I am keenly interested in the work of other poets, fiction writers, and visual artists in this issue. You will have your own favorites, of course. (And I would love to know which ones you respond to!) For me, the one that struck me most keenly this time is by a young student from the Detroit Public Schools, Reyann Aldais. The poem is called “Who I Am” and begins: “In Arabic, my name means/the door to Paradise.” It is fresh and sure and soaring, and I am very glad to have encountered it through Third Wednesday’s participation in publishing selected work from the InsideOut Literary Arts Project that has fostered and promoted the life-transforming creativity of young Detroit students since 1995.

I hope that your summer is unfolding with serenity after the convulsions of last spring, and I hope that you are finding ample time to read, write, sing, dance, imagine, picture, and dream.

All my best, Leslie

Click HERE to see all the poems in this issue and/or to purchase copies of the print issue.