New nonfiction creative essay by Isaac Noland and art by Elizabeth Lubinger

This is a week of firsts for us here at Ravens' Light. Our Corvid Contest this year welcomed submissions of multiple genres outside of fiction, asking for nonfiction, poetry, artwork for the first time. Now, we are proud to feature a creative essay by Isaac Noland, winner of the 2014 Corvid Prize in Nonfiction.

Noland is a Marietta, Ohio native and graduate of Ohio University's E.W. Scripps School of Journalism, where he is currently attending the master's program. He is the editor-in-chief of Speakeasy Magazine.

If you've picked up a copy of our print issue, you will have noticed that Noland's essay, "Slime Journey," was paired with art by Elizabeth Lubinger. Titled "The Essentials, 2013," Lubinger submitted a scan of 15" x 21" metal plate lithograph. The editors here at Ravens' Light believed Lubinger's work went along perfectly with Noland's essay, so the two are still paired together here.

This is an excerpt from "Slime Journey," which you can read in full here:

There is a pointedness to acid trips. An “instant” hangs around indefinitely. It ambles about lazily, nudges a rock with it’s toe, puts its hand in its pockets, whistles, leans back, observes the sun, shields its eyes, and talks periodically about this weather we’re having. Then it turns into a raven and flies away. The tension between moments, the ineffable tiny little timeframe when something happens, like when a slinky on a stair’s momentum carries it juuuust past the point of no return and is sentenced to fall again. That tiny little speck of time becomes a leisurely afternoon.

Lightning traces up my spine, overloading nerves in a tingle of ecstasy. My body trembles. Every movement is a new pleasure, a door opened onto bliss. Only overwhelming physical stimulation can force an individual so wholly into one moment. Somehow it keeps building, each instant seemingly the peak of intensity, but the rise continues. Forward momentum. Ceaseless awareness. Every nerve in my skin is jostling to be heard over the sensory clamor.
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You can also view Elizabeth Lubinger's art here.

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