When I was in the fifth or sixth grade, we moved from a small town on the Mississippi River to St Louis, MO. We found
When I was in the fifth or sixth grade, we moved from a small town on the Mississippi River to St Louis, MO. We found
Reading this piece reminded me of having someone whisper in my ear to tell me an intimate secret. The words are quiet and soft, each sound running into the next.
Colorado Inmates Use Poetry to Connect With the Community : Free Minds Book Club & Writing Workshop started a program called “On the Same Page UNITED”
I once worked in a research lab as an assistant. Each budget cycle, the director, who was a good scientist but a poor administrator, would
Maggie Smith’s poem “Good Bones”, published recently in Waxwing Literary Journal, raced around the internet this week.
“What Sean Lovelace and Mark Neely have done is write something that eclipses fan fiction: they’ve fed his vernacular into a super-elastic-bubble-plastic Franco linguistic-simulation-machine. It’s delightful. It compelled me to visit Franco’s Instagram; I verified they nailed his frenetic tone. How did they do it, without emojis?”