Video: Mush Luv
Tony and Ajani, two mushroom foragers based in Minneapolis, spend the day foraging at a local park and musing on the power of nature.
Tony Gloeggler: Anyway
After we dropped dirt
on my father’s coffin
the long line of cars
drove back to the house.
Michelle D. Holmes, MD: What accounts for the racial disparity in breast cancer survival?
Studies show that the lack of Black doctors may contribute to the disparity.
Naomi Shihab Nye: Everything in Our World Did Not Seem to Fit
Once they started invading us.
Taking our houses and trees, drawing lines,
pushing us into tiny places.
Ed Harkness: Transplanting Tomatoes Amid the Rubble of a Bombed School
I’ll plant Tamatim here
as an experiment
to treat the wounded ground,
Rachel Hadas: Summer Nights and Days
So far the nights feel lonelier than the days.
In light, the living keep me company,
and memories of voices through the years.
Julia Conley: Extreme Heat Expected to Impact Millions of Americans Again This Summer
“These are not your grandparents’ heatwaves,” said one meteorologist.
Video: Terra Incognita
Terra Incognita follows life on a mysterious island, inhabited by immortal beings.
James Crews: Two Poems
Why do we try
to rush delight, strong-arm joy
into busy lives, when so much
beauty already seeds itself beneath
our restless feet?
Sean Sexton: Unrecognizable
A friend of my sister attended the reading—
sat in the back of the hall—coming forth only after
everyone had gone.
Alexis Rhone Fancher: Snake/Holding Things Down
I’m going back to Lowe’s to get a bigger, longer snake, my lover says. Get a king snake, I whisper in his ear. I reach between his legs, cop a feel. Yeah, sure, he says, rolling his eyes. A king snake. He gives my roving hand a squeeze. Or would you prefer a boa constrictor?
Barbara Crooker: Pentimento
In the lost rooms of my childhood,
cinnamon and nutmeg float in the air
David Kirby: My Sunday
My Sunday is doing great
it’s driving along at 35 mph with its sleeves rolled up
and one arm out the window
dog with its head out the window barking at nothing
Fred Johnston: With My Father on Broadway in the Rain
I wanted to be back in our hotel room
Looking out the single window from that height
Knowing I could not fall, that if all gave way I could always fly
