I live in rural Scotland, in a village of sixty-five houses, with no cell service or shops. There is a kirk, a pub; there are more sheep than people. For the first time in my life, I have a garden. A garden with more square footage than my...
VQR columnist Laura Kolbe’s series of essays considers American art through poet and physician Kolbe’s own personal and experiential lens.
On the Richness of the Black Funeral Tradition
1. sharpening the white epidermis to machete on gum-grown whetstones belonging to inheritors of mitochondrial Eve’s Earth-blown nakedness
Finding Your Voice in an American Prison
True domination means That all of the desires & impulses Come from the submissive;
A Ukraine Journal
Thirty miles south of Dallas the air smells of ozone and water. Thunderheads on the horizon in shades of indigo.
Bodies Under Siege in American Art
A finger so tender the diminishing coneflower’s center shocks a needle
up through reaching skin
