Yesterday, the Washington Post’s Book World editor, Ron Charles, applauded the Oxford American’s Spring 2017 issue (which hits newsstands today) and joined us in celebrating the magazine’s twenty-fifth anniversary. “Here’s to the next 25 years of great writing and striking photography from a tough… by Oxford American | Mar, 2017

Short fiction by Glenn Taylor from our Spring 2017 issue.  I knew something was amiss when I began to see men and women on the street as trees. Their arms were branches and their fingers twigs. Some were sprouting little… by Glenn Taylor | Mar, 2017

A poem from our 18th Southern Music Issue: Visions of the Blues. I’m talking about the man at 80—trickling Jheri curl ol skool now razored down or just plain fell out to make way for sparse  and stubbled silver, his… by Patricia Smith | Mar, 2017

A poem from the 18th Southern Music Issue: Visions of the Blues. Some folk think the blues Is a song or a way Of singing But the blues is History by Nikki Giovanni | Mar, 2017

I notice a few other attendees like me—people not in the PSA, interlopers, curious neophytes who have never grown from seed, who have no business even dreaming about discovering new cultivars. On Saturday, one woman interrupts a discussion about propagation… by Gwendolyn Knapp | Sep, 2016

was five years old in 1957, when Daisy was at the center of the Arkansas civil rights struggle.

The counterpoint between personality and place, portrait and landscape underpin much of what John Sanderson admits are travel memories of his younger days, when his vantage was from the passenger seat of his father’s pick-up.

A poem from the 18th Southern Music Issue: Visions of the Blues.

Some folk think the blues
Is a song or a way
Of singing
But the blues is
History

A poem from the 18th Southern Music Issue: Visions of the Blues.  

 
I blush quicker than a school of blue jack mackerel
arranging itself into an orb of dazzle to avoid
 
nips and gulps from the dolphins whove been silently
trailing them, waiting for them to relax.

 

A poem from our 18th Southern Music Issue: Visions of the Blues.

I’m talking about the man at 80—trickling Jheri curl ol skool
now razored down or just plain fell out to make way for sparse 
and stubbled silver, his smile an improvidence of gold and rot

A web feature showcasing excerpts from Village Prodigies, Rodney Jones’ new collection, to which the author refers as a “political satire, a harmony of narcissists, a fable, a reverb cartoon, a eulogy for a place that has vananished, and a children’s book for adults only.” Village Prodigies is published today by Mariner Books. 

Bittersweet on Bostwick Lane explores the landscape of the artist’s childhood in all its loss and sweetness, her own memories inspired by and intertwined with stories told by her oldest neighbor.

A profile of Charlie Sexton, from the 2014 Texas Music Issue. 

The circus had left town. Rolling toward the end of the Seventies, all the high-dollar distressed denim, heavy turquoise bracelets, soft and scuffed Lucchese boots, and even the brain-blowing snow-white cocaine weren’t quite as ominous in Austin’s nightclubs. It was starting to feel a little more like home again, back before the so-called redneck rock invasion. When the cosmic cowboys first started raiding the city, hijacking all the musical attention in our little Austin oasis, it was the mid-Seventies and the Lone Star state was slightly sedate. But that’s how we liked it, actually, because it let the city’s hippies and beatniks create their own fantasies and live on inexpensive fumes. Before the onslaught, the dozen or so honkytonks and nightclubs took care of their own. There were no record business people to promise what rarely got delivered, and the long days and nights spread before central Texas like the promise of a pot hit and a hot kiss.

Short fiction by Glenn Taylor from our Spring 2017 issue. 

I knew something was amiss when I began to see men and women on the street as trees. Their arms were branches and their fingers twigs. Some were sprouting little green buds that looked like lima bean fingernails. Every shoestring was a rat snake. Every breast an eggplant, every swinging dick a banana. 

Yesterday, the Washington Post’s Book World editor, Ron Charles, applauded the Oxford American’s Spring 2017 issue (which hits newsstands today) and joined us in celebrating the magazine’s twenty-fifth anniversary. “Here’s to the next 25 years of great writing and striking photography from a tough magazine that refuses to fade away,” Charles writes, labeling the OA a “regional magazine that defies the regional label,” which we take as the highest compliment.

At the beginning of 2013, a contest in the Florida Everglades opened, allowing the public hunting of invasive Burmese pythons. Hunters from across the country descended on the Florida wetlands in search of the prey.

’Til the Day I Die is a visual exploration of gospel and blues, shot on Super 8mm film.