A poem from our spring 2015 issue. It’s Derby Day. And it’s been 30 years since 1984 when I stood in the grandstand at Churchill Downs after betting my last $20 on Swale that horse I groomed and watched as… by Michael Klein | Apr, 2015

My scream moves through a body that has been in working order for more than thirty-four years. It is a five-foot-six-and-one-half-inch female body, around 140 pounds, and its bone structure appears larger than those of most women I see in… by Elena Passarello | Apr, 2016

Parts of the nation would succumb to despair as entrenched racial prejudice was mined to soothe the emotional needs of isolated, angry people. But those willing to resist the chatter, sit in silence, and sink into the pain found spiritual… by Michelle García | Apr, 2017

An installment in our weekly series, The By and By.  One of the paradoxes of George Ellis’s career, in hindsight, is that alongside his run of cheap exploitation films, he maintained a parallel career as Atlanta’s first great arthouse film… by Will Stephenson | Apr, 2017

My mother was an instinctive cook. Words and directions did not hold much for her. She was a keen observer. She learned to cook from watching her aunts; her grandmother, Maw; her own mother. She loved recipes. Clipped them from the… by Ronni Lundy | Aug, 2016

William Wright

William Wright is author of four full-length collections of poetry, including Tree Heresies (Mercer University Press, forthcoming in spring 2015) and Night Field Anecdote (Louisiana Literature Press). Wright is series editor and volume co-editor of The Southern Poetry Anthology, a multivolume series. Assistant editor for Shenandoah, Wright recently finished editing Hard Lines: Rough South Poetry (with Daniel Cross Turner, forthcoming in 2016 from the University of South Carolina Press).

February 24, 2016

A poem from the Georgia Music Issue.

So shout hallelujah! as they douse the boy in river water.
So bring him up to find his eyes laced in silt—

January 30, 2015

After reading Union, I felt more than sympathy for and with the poet—I felt myself enter the narrative, become the narrator.