
Poem: West Texas Sage
I stop to relish the sudden chill, feel retreating thunder rumbling my bones, hear breezes sliding over damp sand, greedy for its moisture.
Since 1954
I stop to relish the sudden chill, feel retreating thunder rumbling my bones, hear breezes sliding over damp sand, greedy for its moisture.
Do you want flags, cowboys, or cowboy hats? A poem by Robin Turner and a message from outgoing TXO poetry editor Naomi Shihab Nye.
After a terrifying near-death experience, we live to muckrake another day.
“Just hold on,” she said, “hold on with everything I have.”
Our streets didn’t need names. We knew where we were. Where we’d been. Where we were going.
A look three cities' most passionate writers: local poets laureate from Dallas, San Antonio and Houston.
Guadalupe Mendez, Texas poet laureate, reaches out to diverse communities—including his own—thanks to his unique background and vision.
"Instead, Uvalde will mean something else to you. It won’t feel like a creek-polished stone when you say it."
From our May/June issue, two poems by proud Texas poet Laurence Musgrove, a professor of English at Angelo State University