The whole cemetery is a monument to a lost culture of mourning. The towering memorials — tombs, crosses and obelisks embellished with fantastic, almost occult designs — evoke a century in which solemnity mixed freely with public spectacle.
by Craig Davis
Katie stepped from her shoes, pushed her jeans off her hips and made for the rope. She was in the water with a squeal and Tim caught the rope on the backswing and swung out, fully clothed, over the eddying elbow of water and with the girl’s high lilt still pinging around Echo Cliff he let go and — I shit you not — never landed.
There are in my cupboard seven sugars:
White, brown, powdered,
Waiting in big green jars that never go empty
On the eve of their first public exhibition, “Sunburn’t and Snakebitten,” The Kansas City Plein Air Coterie founders and junior members address the requirements for taking part in the upcoming summer and winter sessions
Look, from one human being to another, I drink tap water, without ice, and the interests listed on my Facebook profile are world poetry, spiritualosophy, Victorian rogue taxidermy and dubstep. So … (puts on his vintage sunglasses.) Maybe I’m not the best person to talk to about “high school politics.”