Art by Susan Solomon

Alzheimer’s Lament

By Georgia Greeley ● 2019

Right this moment, in this place, Mother doesn’t know me, her daughter; yet she is still glad to see me and talks gaily. She is happy and cared for. Right…

Art by Kristi Abbott


By Tim Nolan ● 2019

I learned about listening from my grandmother Ruth who allowed great silences to live and breathe in a conversation. She then would say the most apt thing, having thought about…

Art by Sara Endalew


By Marcie Rendon ● 2019

Our ancestors dreamt your future The iron rail, Angus cows slumbering in shorn prairie The buffalo remembered only on the metal That buys and sells on the grain exchange There…

of a time

By M. Wright ● 2017

damp hours dried by coexistence these trumpet calls reverberate through century-old buildings but not everyone can follow the horns. so a few of us linger in the empty square, dry…

Art by Immanuel Bratzel

Tell me again

By Julia Klatt Singer ● 2017

about the man with the pear tree who lost his wife after fifty-six years of marriage and how he had that old gnarled tree in his backyard, and that that…

Art by Leann E. Johnson

Old Rondo

By Donte Collins ● 2015

we were Ferris wheel watchers firefly fighters dollar store cap gun robbers cops and Sunday creased collars private school scholars giving the church basket the dollars our mothers slipped into our pockets seconds before.

Eating Philosophy


Waitress walking across the bridge still smell like kitchen. Want to serve you my seven spice butter sauce blueberry eyes freshly baked buns grated parmesan hair.

Art by Chad Hambright

Good River Feeling Bad

By J. Otis Powell‽ ● 2015

Her voice is deep water, Though she’s too shallow this year for ships, Her body more round than angular, When I ask her questions I get more, Answers than I know what to do with, She says her name in whispers

Grandma’s Arms


Grandma’s brown arms
wrapped around the world
and held it tight,
close to her bosom,
close to her heartbeat.
Grandma’s brown arms
always listened,
paid attention,
knew just how tight
to squeeze,
and when to let go.

The Cathedral—June Thirteenth


Because the vistas end in arches that do not change And the grillwork of sails forecasts a season of palms The dove holds a steady hover over the crossroads of…

Blessed for Life

By Mike Hazard ● 2015

A wild-looking man I don’t know from Adam begged a ride from the PO to the Dorothy Day Center. He’s jazzed, jazzed about a Thanksgiving feast. With a shock of…


By Maryam Marne Zafar ● 2015

The steady drum beat. The high trilling voices. The whipping colors of the people.   POW WOW!   The soft stomping of moccasins upon the earth matching the shush-shush shuffle…