“These shows, and others like them, pulse with near-pornographic magnetism. It’s hard to pull your gaze away.”
“I’ve only been to France a handful of times since I moved away…and each time it gets into me with weird intensity.”
Her words were tender, but raw in intonation and contained the kind of truth you can come to only after having lived through something.
“Ares, the God of Blades”
We recited vows as poems, while our hippie rabbi strummed his guitar and hummed nigun that…
Nope, Roberta Flack didn’t write that song. Find out more in Thomas Larson’s review.
“When it comes to Brown’s latest, the White (or even in some cases Grimy) City should be proud,” Laurie Levy writes of Rosellen Brown’s “The Lake on Fire.”