Video: Spoon
In this visual poem, Markus Kempken explores specific objects — spoons, spatulas, flutes — and the way they trigger memories of his childhood abuse.
Elizabeth Romero: What My Mother Said
think of my love
as a red glass button
hanging on a threadbare dress
Paul Christensen: The Muse of Memory
Nothing stirs but the wind that rattles rain gutters and pulls on the hinges of blistered shutters. A pair of boots has been left out on a patio of gray flagstones, the mud still clinging to their heels like forgotten promises.
Sunnivie Brydum: 11 Better Ideas for a Country in Need of Social Change
Even nations with long histories of inequality and violence carry lessons for how to move toward what might be called a more perfect union.
Video: A Mind Sang
In the last moments before childbirth, a mother sees how similar her life and her child’s life will be.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: The courage that my mother had
The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
Adrie Kusserow: The Adoration
All morning I groom you with tiny lovenames.
I am a cat, you are my kitten, cowlicked
with locution.
Michael Simms: Love
When I was a child, my mother told me
God has many faces
And She reveals Herself
In many ways.
Ellen Foos: Maternal Instinct
Her dreams were artistic,
not caught up in soap operas.
She was creating a new breed
with crayons, storybooks and blind faith.
Video: Mumford & Sons — “Beloved”
A boy visits his mother in the hospital and imagines a perfect day with her: And as you leave you must know you are belovedAnd as you leave I can … Continue reading
Dawn Potter: How to Ask for Money
Grandmother declared, after her third glass of rosé, that vehement was a flavor. Then she turned to stare at me. “A curtsey,” she trumpeted, “is a stitch in time!” She … Continue reading
David Huddle: Even Then I knew
for Lisa Fay Coutley Our mother was often desperate because of my brothers and me—once she threw the dish drainer at Charles, slapped the back of Bill’s head so that … Continue reading
Elizabeth Gargano: Why I Chose to Be My Mother’s Caretaker
Living on Human Time When I tell friends and acquaintances that my eighty-nine-year-old mother will be moving in with my husband and me, I get two kinds of stares. One … Continue reading
Elizabeth Kirschner: The Story of Benjamin
Early July, ninety degrees in the shade and me in the crook of my mother’s arms. She has her movie star sunglasses on, purple cat-eye glasses with iris-tinted lenses. … Continue reading
