Sometimes when practicing mindfulness, Patrick Mulcahy, AKA The Mindful Farmer, returns to a specific childhood memory * The river flows...
Dire Straits You think wheelchairs race the corridor at night, see letters on the mountain, ask me what they spell,...
I am hawthorn Beautiful and forbidding I inspire reverence a healthy reticence. You might find me near holy wells and...
Listen to Tisa Marie Reichle-Aguilera read “Get Back On” in her interview with The Collective. * When Uncle Edward got a...
The Moon Don’t Care This old house, a rattle of bones, settles in for the night— the lights of its...
A Dedication to Drowning Stretched like a drum a coating of me covers my skeletal frame. For now, I am...
As a farmer and former English major, it gives me no pleasure to announce this, but the truth is agriculture...
In western Kansas one can see for miles. Grain elevators stick out of the earth like push pins on a...
Culchie Treks through the fields to training (it’s a five minute walk) Only to be greeted by the sting up...
The Summer of Snakes Some summer I bailed hay, For Farmer Dan, square bales, square As caskets, just as heavy....
It was a struggle for her, getting around to the back of the house this morning to gather up the...
Along the upper Spoon River, 1935 When they found him at last, he was face down in a pool of...