loss
“who we were when,” a poem by Frederick Ramey.

“who we were when,” a poem by Frederick Ramey.

“… I don’t know if his hands are moving but I bet they are somehow I’d feel washed over like that too and be so proud of us …”   who we were when . Isn’t it a great country he asks me as we cross the Panhandle for the second time in three days...
Desperate times, new measures: Broad Street's 2020 Blog.

Desperate times, new measures: Broad Street’s 2020 Blog.

  We feel the need to do something. We make masks, we donate money, we protest and demonstrate … and still our spirits yearn for more. Solidarity and fellow-feeling, the companionship of … what we have, which is a computer screen, where most of us are glued all day and night. But there are people...
“Forced Surrender,” by Valley Haggard.  Digging deep in quarantine and recovery.

“Forced Surrender,” by Valley Haggard. Digging deep in quarantine and recovery.

“… you have to start to take it one day, one hour, one minute at a time just like you did in the first days of sobriety and childbirth and your very own brand-new unfamiliar life.” . When the gratitude lists and the shit lists are coming faster than you can write them down. When...
"At Death's Door," an essay by Margie Patlak.

“At Death’s Door,” an essay by Margie Patlak.

Looking back and clinging to life. “But I just don’t feel old! I’m not ready to die.”   I was going to die. I had a brain tumor; it had grown back, I could feel it boring down into the roof of my mouth, and now I was going to die. I couldn’t accept it, couldn’t...
"After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved," a poem by Ellen Kombiyil.

“After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved,” a poem by Ellen Kombiyil.

“It didn’t flare like tissue or burn to ash but hovered many minutes …” To enjoy this feature as a broadside, drag the image to your desktop … or scroll down to read the poem in plain text. After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved 1. “There in a jar, emptied of buttons — mama put a...