Landslide Lit

I would have been at Kroger when the shooting began, if not for a distraction.

It’s time to let it go.

A mother copes with her daughter’s depression by writing.

The best pool player I ever played was my uncle Bill. A POW in World War II, he lost fifty pounds and all of his teeth. When he came home…

Nothing else needs to be said

At a very young age, Klaus was attracted to fire.

On January 20, 2021, I bought my first American flag and planted it in the front of my garage. I believe. I am an American.

The Kammerer cuckoo clock weathered each movement with tremendous resilience. In 1941 it lived in Ruma, Yugoslavia, with a family of…

Features poetry and prose about growing up, growing older, looking forward, looking back.

Harry S. Truman was running against Thomas Dewey. The year was 1948.

“I feel like I’m opening a sacred text”

For the first 21 years of my life, all the people I loved were Republicans

I wonder if the flashy experiences of crowds, politician’s hugs and fireworks are really the ones that landed on my daughters, and stuck.

A mindless lunchtime scroll through my Facebook feed is slowed by a picture of a co-worker holding an oversized postcard with VOTE…

Ten autumns ago, in 2010, I attended Shada’s citizenship ceremony in Memorial Auditorium on Fourth Street in downtown Louisville. (I’m…

Every time I vote, I still get a tingling inside, rather like the young girl daydreaming about the future. I feel a sense of power when I…

Tim Heerdink is the author of three poetry collections, The Human Remains, Red Flag and Other Poems, Razed Monuments, and the novel, Last…

I didn’t know about the hole in my heart where the child I’d been at 17 stayed hidden, watching as I moved warily along the path she’d…

As I pulled into the driveway, I could already hear the hooting of owls and the screech of red-tailed hawks. The spring of 2019 had been…

I was born in 1954, on a Sun-drenched Union Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee. I was christened by Alan Freed, barking disc jockey banter into…

Grass was as likely to grow on the hood of our 1961 Oldsmobile as it was on the sports field of Wightman Elementary School . . .

Jolted by lightning bolts in your chest, you pass it off as indigestion. You think If you’re having a heart attack, it is not the worst…

I gulp your glorious chords this June morning, see yellow throats stretch from earth toward a worn fence. Silence is imminent. Thirst…

In the mid 70s, I was living with my then-boyfriend, John, in Cambridge, Massachusetts.