The rain is the most honest thing in our lives. It will never fix us.
  • Facebook Classic
  • Instagram Black Square
  • Twitter Classic

POET Tomi Simmons is a high school senior in Las Vegas, Nevada. Last year she was nominated for the Women of the World Poetry Slam. 

ARTIST Richard Retzlaff is a tattooed, canoe-paddling, bike-riding ceramicist who lives near Madison, WI.

EDITORS' NOTE 
LETISIA CRUZ & HEATHER LANG

Somehow it’s mid-October. Across most of the country, leaves are changing color and pumpkin spice is everywhere. Whether you’re most excited about the return of cooler temperatures or the thrill of Halloween ghosts and goblins, one thing’s for certain—change is in the air.

At Petite Hound Press, we love a good transformation. Although its roots are debated, Halloween itself has most certainly experienced its own metamorphosis. Today it's nothing short of an all-out sugar-induced costume parade. This year, with creepy clowns being spotted across various states, a disturbing and unsettling presidential election, and the horrific accounts of racism and violence that plague our society, reality will prove scariest of all.

While we cannot close our eyes or deny the unbearable weight of the world we live in, we also cannot allow it to crush us. There are no short cuts or easy answers. But, we have a responsibility to recognize that we all must find a way to change.

As the final quarter of 2016 closes in, we’re focused on change across multiple spheres. As the leaves continue to transform, we recognize that now is the time to practice our own acts of relinquishment. Now is the time to let go of that which no longer serves.

With ISSUE 42 of Petite Hound Press we look to nature for guidance and inspiration. In the words of poet Tomi Simmons, “rain is the most honest thing in our lives.” We can recognize that water sustains life, and within our individual ocean, we make choices daily. As we admire artisan Richard Retzlaff's ceramic red fish, we realize that we mustn't let our eyes glaze over. We cannot afford to choose apathy.


 

© 2015-2016 Petite Hound Press