A poem by Kevin T. Cantwell.
“Like homing pigeons,” a man in a New York bar once told me about Pittsburghers. “You leave. You go back. You’re lucky. There aren’t many places like that.”
As craft beer and other artisan food and beverage industries reckon with their lack of diversity and seek to court new demographics, this posture of reciprocal learning and the empathy and curiosity that go with it can serve as an invitation.
A poem by Kynala Phillips.
We would laugh so hard in a place not meant for laughter, feel family in a place not meant for home. We had built a brotherhood in a place meant only to be punitive.
How does public art limit (or extend) what we can know about the past, present, or future? How can art support us in telling a new story, a shared story about who we are?
A poem by Caleb Gill.
About twenty feet underwater in Lake Michigan there’s a white marble crucifix from Italy. Diver Denny Jessick used a trail of rumors to search for its origin story.
A poem by Ava O'Malley
A poem by Andrew Taylor-Troutman.
I don’t have enough memories to draw on to fit the form, and I can’t fake it without moving into the realm of fiction, without lying to myself, no matter how nice a story it would make, no matter how very rural or Appalachian these stories could present me.
A poem by Jenna Goldsmith.