Hairbrush in her right hand, Cell phone in her left, Where she left her common sense Is anybody’s guess Trying to turn the corner Steering with her knees – Here comes Miss America In her great big SUV. Can’t laugh without a laugh track, Can’’t sleep without a pill Running on the fast track But […]
Here Comes Miss America Read More »
For Bazin . . . film is actually like a record of God, or of the face of God, or of the ever-changing face of God . . . it shouldn’t be based on the script. It should be based on the person or the thing. And in that sense, [Hollywood is] almost right to have
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Silent Listen February Fury Bare Frost Forts Snow Owns Read Dear Literary Art I Rely Enchanted The End Can Insight Things I Admire I Dream Sabra Spedilari is 23 years old and from Colorado. She is studying English with a literature emphasis and is an
Lit True Era: A Literature Anagram by Sabra Spedilari Read More »
It oozes out of every restaurant speaker like toxic sludge coated in tinsel, spreading its fraudulent corporate message. We’re all subject, against our will, to endure this imposed holiday cheer every year. It tests our patience. It’s the abrasive visiting relative you’re stuck with for the next few weeks who follows you everywhere and won’t
Christmas Music Evil Read More »
You’re often beautiful but overwhelm space, showing up where you shouldn’t be: corners, cracks, dreams. You overgrow, mocking ivy. A lovely imposter trickling across the yard in need of thinning. I pull you from the beginning. Your carrot lifeline nubby and tender. It’s hard to tell your potential. Whether you would fool bugs and protect
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(In today’s column, I feature “A Christmas Memory,” a short story written by a fellow native Alabamian, the late Truman Capote. I first heard this story forty years ago. In December of 1977, Mr. Randal Simmons, my seventh-grade English teacher, read it to our class. Even then, I admired its simple and elegant beauty as
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