Vol. 1, Issue 45
“The proverbial hospitality of the South may be selectively extended but it is not a myth.”
― Sally Mann
What We Southerners Call Grace | Nonfiction
It was late, and I was drunk, which (by my estimation) is a good start to any story. New York was larger-than-life to a boy like me, a boy who grew up with the Carolina Lowcountry running through his veins. Only hours earlier, I had hunkered down on a bar stool,...
“Even Assholes Get To Be Anonymous” & “True Crime in Trees” | Poetry
Even Assholes Get To Be Anonymous You hit a bottom — what they say it takes to know you’re not okay. Find a program, two initials; last one is A. To make the circle round this room, brand new, goddamn nervous, too, stripper at a church — not there to pray. To find...
Homage | Photography
Homage This combines found objects, freshly picked wild flowers and a bed of solid ice. It is an homage to the one who once lived near that window. He has now departed this earth, but so cherishes the simplest things of life. Homage to him who could teach us so much...
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