This Land Press

Thirty years ago, a petite woman with curly blonde hair approached Greg Saunders at a bike race just west of …

Daughter/mother Victoria Fattig and Monica Sutter were both inmates at Mabel Bassett Correction Center in McLoud when this portrait was …

Sitting down to speak with Oklahoma City photographer Yousef Khanfar about his art leads almost inevitably to one name: Georgia …

Cherokee Nation has what seems to be an unusual fixation with lawyers and writing—at least for an outsider looking in. …

Summer in Oklahoma isn’t for the faint of heart. Between the heat, the never-ending hours of sunshine, and the kids …

Editor’s note: The following news analysis article represents a deeper level of commitment to community news coverage. Look for more …

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Originally published on the blog The Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 on March 18, 2013. It is normal that we …

Native Americans within the uprooted “Five Civilized Tribes” found a new home in “Indian Territory”— Oklahoma. Decades later, these Indians …

Shaun Perkins forged the Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry out of her father’s old machine shop as a tiny monument …

On an oppressively hot evening last May, David Cornsilk addressed a room of so-called “black Indians” at Gilcrease Hills Baptist …

Questions have arisen regarding the May 15, 2013 cover image of This Land magazine which warrant an explanation. The cover …

Since April is National Poetry Month, we’re pleased to run poems by a pair of younger writers who participated in …

drink me, rain says it’s hard to swallow the whole world dry so drink me everything tastes better in Oklahoma …

Others have book fests, opera and garden expos. We have gun shows. Ammo. Freedom and now more freedom: open carry.…

Where I come from, rain is the same thing as love, Falling rarely, and spoken about even less. Daddy tells …

The taste of red wine and dark chocolate Swirlin’ together inside my mouth is Like smoke escaping from the chimney…

Spring The wallows are full. Egrets range on bison backs — colors rise sunward. Summer Their wallows are dust. Bison …

Again I slid up over the horizon and the lights of Tulsa spread flat out before me. “Ah, there you …

Lifted their bikes up- side down above their thousand heads and cheered locked the grid

me and my best friend k.t. hurtled down chug holed roads in her green Gran Torino, racing almost as fast …

A triumvirate of sad-eyed raccoons lounging on the roof of an apartment building in Stillwater benignly surveys the progress of …

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding …

Edwin spotted them the moment he stepped off the train. There were dozens of folks here to meet the Atlantic …