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November 25, 2014

Memoirs of a Pioneer Teacher

by Harriet Patrick Gilstrap

I was born February 1, 1870, on a farm near Centropolis in Franklin County, Kansas.…
Director Sterlin Harjo heard a story hundreds of times growing up: the story of his…

by Abby Wendle

S terlin Harjo is the director and producer of a new documentary called “This May…
ShopGood OKC brings the best of This Land’s issue covers to life with this milk…

11/25/2014 | Okiecentric

Beauty, Purpose, and Preservation

By James McGirk

Contemporary art can be strange and frightening for the uninitiated. Before developers gutted Brooklyn’s historic Domino Sugar Factory (they’re converting it into multimillion-dollar condos), artist Kara Walker came in and installed a 70-foot-tall sugar sphinx with a slave woman’s head and her genitals prominently displayed. Walker, who is…

11/24/2014 | Poetry

Love Smells of a Man Named Floyd

By Jennifer E. Hudgens

It is difficult to offer up our hearts like raw chicken on a hibachi grill often the chefs are not delicate at first they try to show off impressing with their clever knife juggling and sweet chopping moves Darling this is not a minute waltz it is a break dance in a hot room the stakes are high and sometimes the reward is winning a dance off sometimes satisfaction co…

11/20/2014 | Original Okie

Ryan LaCroix

By Nathan Poppe

Ryan LaCroix is the operations manager at KOSU Radio and co-hosts the weekly radio program The Oklahoma Rock Show. He also serves as contributing editor for Oklahoma Today magazine and has written essays on Oklahoma music for two Oklahoma Historical Society books. He started the online music hub in 2003 and lives in Blanchard with his wif…

11/19/2014 | New Fiction

Foul Weather

By Daniel H. Wilson

Some things you can’t figure out. Not even with a whole heap of scratch paper and a ribbon of data from a chattering Teletype machine. Not before time runs out. And time is like progress—she’s not stopping for anybody. The answer is out there, though, in the weather. Foul weather breeds foul deeds. Something my mother used to say. She said it even when I wa…

11/18/2014 | Poetry

For Rachel, Who Is Not Lost

By Rob Roensch

  A seagull on the moon is not lost, She is a student of lunar soils. A cookie in a salad is not lost, It is experimenting with greens. A muskrat in Macy’s is not lost, She just needs a new cashmere scarf, Because she ate the last one. A cheerleader in the desert is not lost, She is merely eager to express her enthusiasm For sand. A monster in a preschool is not lo…

11/17/2014 | New Fiction

The Homestead

By Paige Duke

The cruiser cab hummed all around WilDer, nearly electric with the energy of corralled students on holiday. Mal, a live wire on a normal day, was practically bouncing on tiptoe beside him. “I can’t wait to hit the slopes! The professionals say Acronos is the best,” the rapture in his face dimmed when he looked back to WilDer. “I can’t believe you’…

11/14/2014 | Original Okie

Joy Harjo

By Melissa Lukenbaugh

The wandering poet, writer, and musician Joy Harjo returned home three years ago. She left Oklahoma for an Indian boarding school in New Mexico in the late ’60s, and since then has taught at several universities, recorded several albums of music, published many volumes of poetry, children’s books, and a memoir, and performed theater. She…

11/10/2014 | Poetry

Two Poems by Grant Matthew Jenkins

By Grant Matthew Jenkins

Marks Along the river valley who hears the cry of the raptors? Will you avail yourself of the talents at your disposal? Why can’t you congratulate the suicide? In which dimension lies your unfelt emotion? Would the leave lilt in the breeze of your meditation? How long will she go ignoring the fact that she’s breaking any hearts? In fiction, why must the uni…

11/06/2014 | Okiecentric

It’s Hip to Be Square

By Jamie Pierson

The term “comic con” is misleading. When Wizard World brings its version of a comic con to Tulsa for the first time this November,[1] there will be an array of spandexed, sworded, zombified, and leather-clad heroes, but the franchises represented will not be limited to those found in comic books. Some have suggested the term “media con” be used inst…

11/05/2014 | Okiecentric

Lafferty Lost and Found

By Natasha Ball

They convened in a meeting room in the back of an old Borden’s Cafeteria. A bald man with a soft paunch, looking perfectly at home at the first meeting of Oklahoma Science Fiction Writers, sat wordlessly in the back, peering over thick glasses. His name, R.A. Lafferty — that’s Raphael Aloysius, but usually he settled for just Ray — seemed famil…

11/05/2014 | Poetry

Two Prose Poems by Wayne Zade

By Wayne Zade

My Father Meets Oscar Peterson at the London House, Chicago, 1962  There they are, standing in the soft light at the back of the hallway where the restrooms are. OP is between sets, and my father walks up, holding his hand out and thinking, “He looks like Big Daddy Lipscomb.” Because it’s my birthday and I’m shy and he has heard “all those notes” on…

11/04/2014 | Poetry

Three Poems by John Brehm

By John Brehm

Progress Report   I think about my self-   ishness all day long.   Introductions   Now I use my   business cards   to squash   the ants that   crawl across   my desk so im-   prudently it’s as   if they don’t   know who I am.   Tall Glass of Water Because it’s still dark   outside I see…

11/03/2014 | Poetry

A Lexicon of Trees

By Britton Gildersleeve

  The apricot my grandmother planted the day that I was born. She made me fried pies in her grandmother’s skillet. I have it still.   The frangipani down the street from the villa (plumeria its real name). White and rose and yellow flowers. Climbing with the ants up its twisted trunk, I thought I was invisible.   The mimosa on 8th Street. Into l…

10/27/2014 | Letters

Wearing the Wrong Colors

By Drew Tully

He got started quick. He found me out, honed in, and covered me at the bar. The clash was long awaited. I went running, went out for a coffee or a sandwich or an afternoon round at the polite dive up the street, and heard the same “you’re wearing the wrong shirt, pal” quip on each occasion. It was only a matter of time, I’d figured, until I would be caught in th…

10/27/2014 | Artist at Work

On the Fly

By Timothy Bradford & Chad Reynolds

On a cool March evening, we set out a sandwich board that read “SHORT ORDER POEMS 1 FOR $5 FRESHLY TYPED & HOT,” sat down behind our typewriters, and started taking and fulfilling orders. People asked endless questions: What is this? Who are you writing for? How do I order a poem? Why are you doing this? How do I write a poem? Who are you? How can I join you? W…