Take Sturgill Simpson. Sturgill (can I call you Sturgill?) is a Kentucky rascal, born in the heart of the Appalachian mountains. Jackson—population around twenty-one hundred. He comes from a family of coal miners. He was in the Navy. He worked… by Leesa Cross-Smith | Nov, 2017

A Points South essay from the Kentucky Music Issue.  The station’s first transmission was of the revered union ballad singer Nimrod Workman offering a lyrical good-morning salute to “all of my people”—and WMMT 88.7 FM has been an inclusive and… by Jeffrey A. Keith | Nov, 2017

I used to imagine the Holy Ghost as a fog that slept in the rafters of our church. I thought our music, singing, and shouting woke the Spirit. When It looked down and saw us, It was reminded of how lonely… by Ashley Blooms | Nov, 2017

An interview with Les McCann from the Kentucky Music Issue.  All through high school the band teacher and I were very good friends. He received tickets to all the bands and brought me to concerts. I was in perfect heaven. I never… by Harmony Holiday | Nov, 2017

Three poems from our Kentucky Music Issue.  Until the nameless traveler learns in terror His lidless eyes are open targets— Where sudden night flings in her quiet spear.    by Thomas Merton | Nov, 2017

A few seconds in, there came this sound. It filled the song and then it filled the room I was listening in. What was that? Like a fiercely shaken box of tacks. Like wind rattling dry leaves on a tree.… by John Jeremiah Sullivan | Nov, 2017

We celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary year by doing what we’ve always done: publish the groundbreaking fiction—three excerpts from Jesmyn Ward’s National Book Award–winning novel, Sing, Unburied, Sing—essays, nonfiction, and poetry our readers have come to expect. Revisit or catch up on… by Oxford American | Dec, 2017

It was 1995, the year Joan Osborne’s “One of Us” was released, the end of my eighth-grade year, in rural Kentucky where homophobia was—and continues to be—rampant. My secret boyfriend and I—the one I had kissed in darkened classrooms after… by Jason Howard | Nov, 2017

Notes on the songs from our 19th Southern Music Issue CD featuring Kentucky. This faculty, to be attuned to one’s surroundings and the ways in which they’re unique, to be rooted in the local, to be of a certain place—no matter if… by Oxford American | Nov, 2017

December 04, 2017

Although the journey of this book is more fraught than a cloud forest, it is more magical, too. The games we play become the way the poems tell their stories, the way they love and grieve. These games help reader and poet get to know each other, while also introducing other urgent relationships between country and self, mother and son, the living and the dead.

November 21, 2017

Three poems from our Kentucky Music Issue. 

Until the nameless traveler learns in terror 
His lidless eyes are open targets— 
Where sudden night flings in her quiet spear. 

 

September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

I have tried to carry a persimmon home,
to share one fruit. I passed the tree running, 

a pursuit which allows no pockets, no bags.
Needs no equipment. No team.

September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

As a boy I pleaded 
with the river to teach me 
its long and winding vowels. 
In exchange I taught it 
swear words, how to play games.
September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

There were more rebel flags and gun shops 
in Indy than Virginia, fewer mountains, 
less green for our eyes, and our cat 
wasn’t born there, she was born here, 
under the house, and if nothing 
September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

Always walked this close between the rows.
Always smoked so many seeds.

You will find yourself dragging 
             a live rabbit 

by one foot, the other kicking.
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 
September 05, 2017

The lounge’s changes reflect those of Trenton, which has been hit by deindustrialization, white flight, falling property values, a cratering tax base, budget cuts, and a drop in educational resources. There is probably a recovery formula for the rest of the city somewhere in the tiny fragment of an integrated, prospering populace that materializes for the Candlelight Saturday Sabbath with its transubstantiation of mouthpiece, breath, drum skin, string, and inner ear stereocilia into camaraderie.

July 17, 2017

Featuring photographs by Phyllis B. Dooney and documentary poems by Jardine Libaire, Gravity Is Stronger Here documents five years in the lives of one dynamic family living in Greenville, Mississippi.

March 14, 2017

A poem from the Spring 2017 issue.

Beneath the knotted rows of cane 
that hid me, thrummed knuckle-red,
a belting out—ribs, wrist, my gone warble 
knocked soundless, torched wails uprooting:
What a song to be bosomed with.