The Woods are a place of shadows and the whispers of non-human life. We seek to lose ourselves in order to find ourselves among the dense and elaborate smells of photosynthesis and decay. We walk above gnarled and hyper-intelligent root systems, seeking portals into the underworld. And when we emerge again, into the sunlight and society, we do so with broadened lungs, bark talismans and toxic mushrooms in our pockets.

This issue of What Fresh Witch Is This brings together poems that conjure the mystical communion and transfiguration that occurs away from the trodden path, in our own heretical leaf canopy cathedrals.  

We would also take this occasion to announce that following Issue IV, we will be taking a hiatus from publishing. What Fresh Witch has acted a sheltered place for us to lean into the feminine strange, and we feel so fortunate to have found such a widespread community of writers and artists who share this affinity. We would like to sincerely thank all those who have supported this project.


-- Claire & Alex