Stillpoint
A poem on faith and doubt along the Carolina shore
Poetry
Come Back to Me
Some of us mourn quietly. Some of us howl like wounded animals.
By Susan Swartwout /
We’re Just Here
Two poems steeped in prismatic New Orleans imagery, creeping up from memories of a complex past.
By Richard Boada /
Lover
Love is one form of salvation. Louisville’s unsung master of the short narrative poem guides us through a scene showing just that.
By Robert L. Penick /
Sacred Bones
“Hold tight to history,” Appalachian poet E.J. Wade writes, so we might be awakened.
By E.J. Wade /
Dreamwalking
With otherworldly clarity, a New Orleans poet details the depths of trying times.
By Nikki Ummel /
Moccasin
“There is love that walks in fallows,” this Louisville poet writes. Ain’t that the truth.
By David Higdon /
The Names of Love
How music and blackberries nourish and knit us together.
By Chrissie Anderson Peters /
What the Farm Carried
A farm and a family are one and the same, each one enduring a burden.
By Terry Huff /
Point of Entry
A lyric meditation on the ins and outs of jump rope, conversation, and other matters large and small.
By Sarah Gordon /
Requiem for a Dollar Store Christmas Bear
His mother could afford only a single Christmas gift, and he treasured it. It kept him warm. At least for a little while.
