My Great-uncle. Memphis, Mid-1970s.

Vacation. Branson, MO August 9, 1976.

My family at Hwange Dam, Zimbabwe, 1991.

September, 2017. Memphis, TN. Me.

Me, yesterday. 16 January 2017. Taken by my dear friend Jenny Lederer.

William and Ella Hedrick with Mary and Gertie (my great-grandmother).

My great-grandmother. May 1963.

It’s our last reading of the season! Don’t miss these amazing poets. BE HERE. THERE WILL BE A PROJECTOR. DOUGLAS PICCINNINI was born in New York City in 1982. He has been awarded residencies by The Vermont Studio Center, Art Farm in Marquette, NE and, The Elizabeth Bishop Society of Nova Scotia. In 2014, he was selected by Dorothea Lasky as a winner of the Summer Literary Seminars for Poetry. He is the author of Story Book: a novella, and a collection of poems, Blood Oboe.

CHRIS HOSEA was born in Princeton, New Jersey, in 1973, and his first book of poems, Put Your Hands In, was selected by John Ashbery as the winner of the Walt Whitman Award from the Academy of American Poets. His work as a visual artist includes Over Time Across Space, with Kim Bennett, which was the subject of a 2015 full-gallery exhibition at Transmitter in Brooklyn, New York. His poems have appeared in 6x6, The American Poetry Review, Boston Review, Brooklyn Rail, Web Conjunctions, Denver Quarterly, Harvard Review, New American Review, Prelude, White Wall Review, and VOLT. He lives in Brooklyn. JONATHAN MAY grew up in Zimbabwe as the child of missionaries. He lives and teaches in Memphis, TN. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in [PANK], Superstition Review, Shark Reef, Duende, One, Winter Tangerine Review, and Rock & Sling. He’s recently translated the play Dreams by Günter Eich into English. Read more at http://memphisjon.wordpress.com/

A true Memphis legend. Graceland Too, in Holly Springs, MS, was one of the weirdest places I've ever been. RIP Paul McLeod.

A few thoughts on the passing of Paul McLeod — He was a very troubled man, consumed by obsession. It covered the walls and ceiling of his house. It was his life, day in and day out. If you thought about it for any length of time, you’d realize it was a very sad situation. Mental illness is an ugly beast. But he brought so much joy to so many people. I have nothing but fond memories from my 30+ visits to see him. I brought my parents once, in one of the only times I went before midnight. I can still find my picture on his walls. I’ve given tours in his stead while he welcomed new guests. And I’ve taken more people than I can remember for their inaugural visit. Not a single one ever took him up on his money back “and I’ll pay you” guarantee. His son has been gone for years, and if I were him I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. He named his son Elvis. His wife of 22 years said, “It’s Elvis or me,” and he showed her the door. He loved Elvis. He loved everything about Elvis. And he loved sharing that love with thousands and thousands of people from around the world. He always said he was going to be buried in that gold sequin suit he had made. I hope his last wish is granted. Rest in peace, Paul McLeod. Glory glory hallelujah.

They put a Jeff Koons sculpture up at The Dixon in Memphis.