Gregg & LeNoir — August 2026

Michele LeNoir and Maximillian Gregg traded art and writing. Maximillian shared this image, titled “Star Beam,” with Michele:

In response, Michele wrote this poem:

Until the Universe Blinks First

My hand juts out—
a wall, a shield of bone
to bear this offense.
My soul flashing
the white heat of my whole.
No in-between, no hesitation.

The red atmosphere senses
this shudder of flesh.
Defenses scatter like a bursting star
in the cold weight of Chaos.
A thick stroke of gray bleeds
over the ridge.

I look at this dirt. It is sacred.
The yellow expanse, bound,
in a fracture of blue-purple light.
Every pulse of blood
is a sovereign realm the shadows
did not build and cannot claim.

They demand my borders.
They demand the soil of my body.
But I will not be hollowed out.

From bedrock,
I forge blinding glass.
The star in my palm
runs white-hot—
a beacon pulsing against the dark,
scalding the air between what is safe
and what is lost.

The horizon presses down
in heavy strokes.
My eyes drink the red canvas
as it bleeds raw into ash.

Inside, fault lines slip.
Outside, the air turns to ice.
Yet the fingers do not drop.
Let the void witness what I carry.
It is I who must defend.
I, Mother Earth,
holding the light until the universe blinks first.

* * * * *

Michele shared this poem with Maximillian:

Arrangements

A notional ekphrastic of the first formal bouquet.
Ancient Egyptians 2500 BCE.

I pass by maids-in-waiting who gather papyrus,
lotus, water lilies, and go farther out—

where sweet scents lead me to the place
my queen loved best, and I bend back

a small branch of red lovelies. Tears fall
over their delicate petals, tears for my mother,

my queen. I weep knowing what comes,
the sharp sound of sistrums

in the distance. But I return with flowers
assembled, gather these women,

and we arrange beauty
around beauty.

In response, Maximillian made this image, titled “Reflections on a Queen’s Reign: 2500 BCE”: