We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
I’m a new face in the therapy group. / My wife’s ultimatum drove us here tonight. / And when my turn in the circle comes / to say what I’m feeling right now, / my tears surprise even me.
By Jim RalstonMay 2019Someone has died. Someone I loved the way I love my own hands. And I am alive in the bright, fading day, flying above the earth and sea.
By Sallie TisdaleMay 2019March 2019The real question is: How sturdy and solid is the floor our civilization stands on? How many lives with no prospects, shattered and senseless, can it bear the weight of before it cracks?
Christa Wolf, City of Angels: Or, The Overcoat of Dr. Freud
I imagine them sending me to live with a family that is not my own. I have protected my parents for as long as I’ve been alive. If someone comes after them, I have teeth.
By T Kira MaddenMarch 2019Running is better for me than church; better than counseling, pills, or meditation; better than diet plans or twelve-step meetings. Running keeps me literally on the straight and narrow.
By Joseph HoltMarch 2019Sometimes the horses grazing / in the nearby pastures come to the fence / and we talk. Or I do, and they seem to listen.
By Elizabeth PolinerFebruary 2019Put a bald truck tire in the top of a cypress tree in Florida / and soon an osprey will arrive to build its roost / of sharp dry twigs and torn-up winter grass.
By Tony HoaglandFebruary 2019You had the face of a man who couldn’t help understanding everything — all of it, the whole pathetic, tragic human thing — and that draws people in. To me you were a magnet of kindness.
By J.E. McCaffertyJanuary 2019It seems she was surprised to hear from me. “Marion,” she wrote back a week later, “I kinda liked you when I met you, and then I learned to love you, but now you’re just the skank that fucked my man when I was struggling to make a family.”
By Marion WinikJanuary 2019You want to write back, He died. You want your hurt to be the world’s hurt. This pain is what was born tonight. It’s a palpable, physical thing, an object of infinite dimension that can be looked at from many angles, held closely or at a distance, and always there is some new aspect of the sorrow.
By Brady EmersonJanuary 2019Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
Subscribe Today