death
“Holy Smoke Vanities,” a poem by Gerard Sarnat.

“Holy Smoke Vanities,” a poem by Gerard Sarnat.

On death and the spirit. “ … winds can visit my carcass plus perhaps maybe recall us dust to dust to dust …” You can enjoy this poem as a broadside by dragging the image below to your desktop — or scroll down to read as regular text. Holy Smoke Vanities – i. Delusions of Grandeur R.I.P Tom Wolfe, 1931–2018 Snubbed, existing barely,...
"Kuan Yin," a memoir by Judy Anne Wilson: Coming out as a lesbian in the first years of the AIDS crisis.

“Kuan Yin,” a memoir by Judy Anne Wilson: Coming out as a lesbian in the first years of the AIDS crisis.

“I imagined his losses as paving stones, each appearing one after the other, each the dispossession of a dream, a hope.” Pride. Photo by the author. – Kuan Yin I was such a newbie, arriving in San Francisco on a rare sunlit afternoon in mid-November 1983. A picaro of sorts, by way of trust-fund-baby hippie communes and other,...
“Elegy for My Mother,” a poem by Ann Quinn.

“Elegy for My Mother,” a poem by Ann Quinn.

Life, death, transfiguration. “It was to be a good death, a clean death, a loving death …” — 1. October 11, 1970   I am in my first-grade classroom in Lexington Park, Maryland. The teacher has made a space capsule from a card table and blanket. Inside are two children picked to be astronauts, a boy...
“I Got Grown,” a memoir by Joe Milan, Jr.

“I Got Grown,” a memoir by Joe Milan, Jr.

A young man starts his working life where others’ lives end. “We worked well together. We hustled. We batched. We finished our tasks quickly, all the while head-banging to Alice in Chains or nodding to the Ray Brown Trio. I thought I’d finally found my stride.” Kachina doll class. Photograph by Chad Hunt.  I Got Grown In the year...
“Aunt Milwee’s Balm,” a memoir by Chris Carbaugh.

“Aunt Milwee’s Balm,” a memoir by Chris Carbaugh.

A home remedy unites mourners after its maker’s death. “Milwee was certain that her uncle’s formula was a panacea for countless ailments, aches, and pains: ‘Just rub some on and expect a miracle to occur.’” Saint Mary Magdalene with ointment jar. Illuminated manuscript, c. 1470. There was a strange assortment of people observing the funeral of my aunt...