by Lyndon German It was my mistake, thinking genius was associated with trade or talent. That night I stumbled upon a strange house with a red light, I assumed a villain dwelled here. When in fact, after sitting on a couch of some unknown origin, I learned the light was red only because they were out of blue light bulbs, and later, after my expectations went limp, how disappointed I would be if the sky wasn’t blue. All at once I had walked into some…Continue Reading “Moon River (It was my mistake.)”

by Elly Call He carried the radio because it might have been his infant. Its cries provided his unusual building materials. Beyond the collonades of guitar twang he set in front of himself, around himself, behind himself, Was the glass-trash gravel. Mid-grey alley-way. Some sassy traffic. None of this mattered to the man who took the blues and constructed– (Ionic musical sequence, the symmetrical harmony of temple relations) No his head was never covered. (The heart of the house was the courtyard.) Blueprints in his…Continue Reading “The Richmond Transients: The Architect of the Side Walk Airspace”

 by Christopher Sloce. Apologies to Lou Reed, who is forever scowling at anyone eulogizing him. Lyrics aren’t poetry. They never have been. Maybe poetic. Never poetry. Your English teacher, who sold you on this idea that rock music is poetry, just sold you part of the greatest myth of the 21st century. Lou Reed knew what rock music was. He knew it was simply rock and roll and it didn’t need anything else. To quote the man himself, “If God showed up tomorrow and said,…Continue Reading “Lou Reed’s Rock and Roll”

by Amelia Heymann When I first thought about an Anarchist-run event, certain images came to my mind. One was a group of teenagers pushing over trashcans while shouting “Fuck the system!” Another, a group of angry punk kids ranting about how the man is keeping them down, as some obscure band screams in the background.  What I actually saw when I attended an Anarchist gathering was a group of adults sipping on craft brewed beer while discussing how to run the world without a government…Continue Reading “Inside Liberate RVA’s Anarchy Garden”

by Elly Call Origins aside, Some might have said Her mother Dedicated Her to some archaic deity, With requests for beauty or fertility or wealth. The deity had granted a nimbus of hair, luminous through the car exhaust. When He bent down to Her, it was an aggressive kiss introduction, And She pleaded at His face with Her wet paper hands. They didn’t work, So She conjured with sharp bone fists. She had a sinuous back. He held her wrists. There was the stop-go road…Continue Reading “The Richmond Transients: Belvidere Witch Woman”