For Colored Boys: A Poem
From Magic City, a lyric cry of solidarity against shame and silence.
From Magic City, a lyric cry of solidarity against shame and silence.
In this spare, haunting meditation, Daniel Wallace writes about how the specter of loss follows us from childhood into marriage, reminding us that every bond—no matter how fierce—must one day confront its own ending.
As the “Big Fish” author’s tales grace our magazine once again, we invite you to join the Family Circle that keeps Southern voices—classic and fresh—alive and thriving.
When your father is a legendary scoundrel and your own origin story is a punchline, what does redemption look like? Daniel Wallace answers, with his signature blend of dark humor and Southern surrealism.
Between the pull of home, bodies of water, and the weight of memory, these two poems cast and retrieve.
As more of us navigate the middle passages of life, we look to voices that honor the grit, humor, and hope of these years. This week, two Southern writers show us that second acts are not about fading away, but about blooming with purpose and grace.
Award-winning journalist Diana Keough on how faith transforms as life unfolds—becoming less about certainty and more about showing up, holding space, and finding meaning in the everyday messiness that falls between Sundays.
When Mississippi’s Dusti Bongé turned to painting, she defied the limits set for women of her era, forging a path from Biloxi to the New York art world. Ellen Ann Fentress finds in Bongé’s story—and in her own—the urgency, satisfaction, and bittersweet cost of pursuing creative dreams in life’s second half.
As renowned folklorist Bill Ferris celebrates 50 years since the release of four landmark documentaries, we present those films and begin a series of interviews about the cultural connections that should unite all Southerners.
When a novice midlife musician makes her festival stage debut on a homemade washtub bass, she learns a little about old-time music. And more about embracing imperfection.
More than a century ago, in “The Second Coming,” Irish poet William Butler Yeats wrote, “the centre cannot hold.” But sometimes it does. This poem says so.
Storytelling is a merciful, hopeful act. The words of skilled writers with compassionate hearts can heal wounded people and communities. Our 2025 membership drive is here. Please help keep this home for such writers running for another year.
Ackerman’s verses—rich in the landscapes of the Blue Ridge—bridge our generations, from a rickety shelf stacked with jelly jars to climate-anxious meadows.