Letter From The Editor

Michael F. Bemis explores the vibrant tapestry of his life as an amateur photographer and an aspiring poet. He continues to explore the combined effects of knowledge and creativity, embracing his dual roles as a scholar and artist while capturing the world’s beauty through photography and verse. He lives in Oakdale, Minnesota.

Dearest Reader,

Welcome to TWF, Issue 1. You might recognize me as our update writer, who’s been cheerleading the release of our inaugural issue for weeks. Well, it’s finally here!

Try as I might, the words I write in this editor’s note will never be of the right voice to introduce this publication. The work featured in this issue is hilarious at some points and heartbreaking at others. There are lines at which I’ve snorted, actually snorted, out loud, and sentences that have made me fold away my laptop and stare at the ceiling, questioning things, feeling things, reflecting parts of my experience as a human person that I didn’t realize needed to be reflected on.

It’s exactly what I had hoped for back when I curated the idea for Geode. Somedays, life is repetitive. It’s going through the motions; it’s doing what the millions of people around us are doing, like the billions that came before us. I wake up, I feed myself, I go to school, I work. But there’s more to life, more to us, than that. We have histories, emotions, ideas. Like a geode, what seems unassuming and ordinary on the outside doesn’t mean it’s not glittering within. If you crack a geode open, it will glitter. If you give people the chance to crack themselves open on paper, they’ll glitter, too. I wanted to see what lay inside the lives of others, to see what was hidden behind the seemingly ordinary. And this issue delivered.

I want to thank everyone involved in making this issue happen. I especially want to thank Tobi Brun, The Words Faire’s Editor in Chief, for everything they take on for TWF including, not too long ago, me. I’ve learned so much since I joined the TWF team, and feel so lucky for myself and for the contributors, because I know we’re all in good hands. I admire you for how hard you work to make big ideas become real, and how you never make me afraid to ask questions. Thank you for bringing me along to the helm of this project. It’s been more meaningful than I think I could possibly express.

I also don’t want to leave without thanking you, readers. Without you, this would not have been possible. I hope you find something in this book that sticks with you for a day, a week, or hell, even years to come. Find the things you love and stick with them. Find the things you love.

‘Til our next rendezvous,

Nat Kees

Editorial Director

Winter 2025 - Spring 2026