Originally published in our Tennessee Music Issue  There is a remarkable story tucked halfway through Bessie, Chris Albertson’s biography of the blues singer Bessie Smith, in which Smith approaches a circle of robed North Carolina Klansmen, places one hand on her hip,… by Amanda Petrusich | Nov, 2020

Playlists curated by your favorite musicians and writers. by Brittany Howard, Kiese Laymon, Rosanne Cash, Kelsey Waldon, & others | Nov, 2020

An introduction to the Music Issue’s Icons Section Beyond my eye, beyond the death and decay of matters left behind and unsettled, the music ringing up above my head told a thousand stories of bounty and belonging, and it glimmered… by Danielle A. Jackson | Nov, 2020

Originally published in our 2007 Music Issue  In a remarkable 1963 appearance with Juilliard professor and friend, Hall Overton, at the New School in New York, Monk demonstrated his technique of “bending” or “curving” notes on the piano, the most… by Sam Stephenson | Nov, 2020

Originally published in our North Carolina Music Issue.  I wanted to start with the wild weeds and the creaking wood on the front porch, walking up to Nina Simone’s childhood home in Tryon, North Carolina. I wanted to start where… by Tiana Clark | Nov, 2020

An essay from the Greatest Hits Music Issue The first songs that I listened to by Talibah Safiya had this soft, sweet, plaintive quality. There is something else underneath if you listen a bit closer: a little loneliness. The knowledge… by Jamey Hatley | Nov, 2020

An introduction to the Greatest Hits Music Issue How does the South inform my music? How do I describe the sound that your bare feet make when they pat the cool, packed red dust under them? How do I describe… by Brittany Howard | Oct, 2020

 A Letter from the Editor, Food Issue. Quiet as it is kept, and widely as it has become forgotten, those who do the cooking and the farming know that those who only eat what is cooked for them and served… by Alice Randall | Mar, 2021

November 02, 2014

A poem from our summer 2013 issue.

is what she said, but what mattered was the tone—
not a drive-by spondee and never the fricative
connotation as verb, but from her mouth
voweled, often preceeded by well, with the “u” low
as if dipping up homemade ice cream, waiting to be served
last so that she’d scoop from the bottom
where all the good stuff had settled down.

March 14, 2017

A poem from the Spring 2017 issue.

Never allow your heaven to grow too large,
the raven said, when I stepped out, first light.
But it was not a raven. I am lying.
October 26, 2016

A poem from the Fall 2016 issue.

Kid comes to see me during office hours, and he says he has
a weekend job at a gas station, and one Saturday, two girls
from French class come by and ask him if he wants to go
March 19, 2019

Poems from the Spring 2019 issue.

I didn’t see the line when I crossed it—
only light, making everything new; 
here, they say the winters spill out, 
white a boll inside my palm; 
here, gold adorns the trees, 
the sun sheds its effervescence through the leaves;
I touch the place where the master split my head with iron, 
even that imperfection is brilliant here;

August 21, 2020

A poem from the Place Issue

She was never alone, even when her young husband sailed away. / Landlocked, she imagined the Pacific’s cursive blue waves // as she read letters of submarine gossip.

October 27, 2016

A poem from the Fall 2016 issue.

I’ve seen enough of your creation, Lord,
its absurd conceits, the sins of idle men
ripened to gnashing teeth.
January 27, 2015

A poem from the winter 2014 issue.

Last century, like angels before the world was born,
Cowboys ruled the West. Now, like angels scorned,
come the Texans to lay the black on blue.

March 14, 2017

A poem from the Spring 2017 issue.

Two years ago today my mother died,
eighty-nine and brilliant, stubborn, brave.
September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

I always wanted to be a mother 
sucking pinches of moss like 
cough drops stuffing tiny pink
cheeks with breadcrumbs    would 
that make you love me more 
March 13, 2018

A poem from the Spring 2018 issue.

I know we are happy

To hold them in our arms

     Watching 

Them squizzle