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Winter 2025 Cover with photo by Lys Arango of 3 coal miners sitting on a bench during lunch

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Beggars and Begging Songs
… appeal to us at first sight as subjects of romance. But the community of the Needy Nomadic to which they belong, with … of Fantasy-in-Idleness, as the sordidness of want and falsehood. In the history of every trade, profession, or … ancient Egyptians; their “unemployed” had to accept work or die. Greece upheld similar principles. We learn that by the …
The Southern States in Fiction
… Blow No More. By Clifford Dowdey. Boston: Little, Brown and Company. $2.50. Children of Strangers. By Lyle Saxon. … sees it and as his wife and mother feel it. “The private soldier never knows where he is going next or why.” It is war … than they do in the mind. We live the lives of the individuals but recall the tragedy of a people. Yet that is only …
Chorus for Unsung Heroes
… were lost in a blinding storm a few feet from the hut, Who died without any struggle, who perished without sound. We … bronze memorial plaques atone: For it is not that we have died in war, but died ingloriously, Not that we have gone into the dark, but …
Reporting
Lost Causes
… reenactor with straps. Gettysburg, PA, 2011. The Union soldiers fall back into the treeline and after a short respite, the command echoes down the long gray line: “Brigade … battalion … when they look at Compton, see a black man, but as he points out, he’s not African American. Ethnically Hawaiian, …
Criticism
Spoon River Bard
… As it turns out, Masters’s own grave—he died in 1950 at the age of 81—lies a mere 40 paces from that … Masters’s epitaph inscribed in 1921. As Herbert K. Russell comments in his sympathetic, balanced, judicious, … the everyday colloquialness of Williams and others. One can also hear in the end words …
Gold Bugs
… The memory, if it is a memory, came to me only after she died. Didn’t we, I asked Dad and Willie, didn’t we collect … and ran into the dark mouth of the hospital. She did not come home for six more weeks. From then on I often woke in … I see Willie’s and my bare, tanned legs and dusty sandals swinging through the black wrought iron. Behind us, as …
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