A man walks around with a bullet in his head in Gerald Yelle’s surreal yet oddly believable poem.
Josette Akresh-Gonzales’s Pushcart-nominated poem is one of mourning and celebration, in which “The front door is open for the ten /people who will say the kaddish with me. They don’t have to knock.”
As we approach World AIDS Day, John Whittier Treat’s call and response poem raises questions about the ways by which we commemorate.
This was a conversation I wouldn’t have had with my Dad, if it wasn’t for this run and the Movember Foundation.
“I’m passionate about men’s health because I love my wife and I want to be around to keep loving her for a long time.”
Darius Stewart and his mother grieve the impending loss of a good man– “slugging our way /to the altar for grace, bartering for his life.”
How did we not have a simple conversation about not feeling well—emotionally or physically?
Jesse Kornbluth remembers the life and legacy of Leonard Cohen.
PASTA week today, my wife and sons and I went to our boardwalk amusement park in San Diego. We rode the carousel, the Silly Submarine, the race cars, and played in the arcade. My sons were doing what they do best: having fun in the moment. My wife enjoyed herself, too, and we both took…
Comment of the Day: ‘My daughter passed away—we didn’t get to say goodbye’
Because ignoring the death of a child doesn’t mean the child hasn’t died.
14 months after losing our girls, we have experienced both joy and sadness, and incredible love from so many.
A father talks with his teens about suicide prevention.
Philadelphia isn’t immune to rioting, but officials say it’s the ahead-of-the-curve policing that differentiates it from its counterparts.
The electricity of the living and the dying churns through Dwight Gray’s poem.
Graciousness given. Graciousness received back. Beautiful.