Hudson Valley Record Stores

We’ve rounded up a list of all the vinyl shops in the Hudson Valley, Catskills, and Capital Region. These independent shops carry a large range of formats and genres, music experts on hand to chat and help you find what you want. Get out the calendar because you’re going to want to road trip to…

6 Earth Day Events in the Hudson Valley

From a music festival to nature cleanups, there are a variety of Earth Day events that you can sign up for to celebrate the Earth and show you appreciation for our region’s natural treasures. So step outside, embrace the natural world, and celebrate Earth Day 2018 in the Hudson Valley.

Poem: Streetpoet

I live in the street I sleep in the gutter Among the shabby hordes that stumble and mutter I do my best to sing for my supper And distinguish myself before you It’s true I do steal cigarette butts from ash cans And I have been known to drink But suffer me my friends I…

Poem: All You Hear Is a Squeak

The creaking as the wind holds the door open. The breeze pushes back the yellow tipped grass with a swish. As you gaze out the window you see your own reflection. You reach out to touch it but all you feel is the firm flat surface of glass and all you hear is a squeak.

Poem: I Remember

I remember a Sunday winter in the Bronx the barren streets enveloped by a bitter cold sky a grey blanket covering our apartment buildings I remember the wind cutting through the alleyways whipping across the elevated train tracks lifting falling swirling passing McArdle’s bar the cutting wind issuing a drunken howl before turning the corner…

Poem: Ouroboros

I found you coiled on my doorstep, patiently waiting for the locks to turn so you could show me how to shed my old skin. But I hissed and slithered back to safety, unwilling to accept the time had come.

Poem: Indigo Child

God’s messenger drifts through the hallway, scattering scraps in her wake. She keeps The Word on a Post-it, mistranslates Rilke to taste truth in a foreign tongue, tears leaves from old books and whites out lines to reveal the kernel that sprouts because poetry is the seed of all things. Every day she composes scripture.…

Poem: No Fishing Allowed

No Se Perite La Pesca On the Rondout Creek, we watch a heron tiptoe across a tight rope from dock to boat. We cheer him on to rev the engine, speed out on the water, wave his legs to a gaggle of geese. Boys equipped with worms and rods, ignore the signs, throw out lines,…

Poem: The Thief

“Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroke its sum, You did not come…”—Thomas Hardy I stole a jelly jar of wishbones once from a dead man— they sang like a rattle, those ten conjoined clavicles, and I spent the day dreamily shaking them like a cup of dice— wondering if I could harvest hope; wondering…

Poem: The Bus Stop Gang

You were all tiny then, excited to play with each other in the morning on the patch of grass in front of our home until the yellow bus appeared. In the afternoons, we rushed from work to gather you up with twirls and hollers of joy, tussling your heads, or sometimes with silence and a…

Poem: Déjà Vu

We make eye contact Instantly, I am dazzled. I know that sparkle because it’s inside of me, too and always has been. Déjà vu This is the first time I’m here, but it is my home-sweet-home. Oh, how I’ve missed this place I’ve never been.

Poem: A Poem for Joel

A poem for you sits meditates on the blazing woodstove puts its feet up on the hearth oak smoke permeates every line This particular poem talks freely says what it wants breaks a sentence but does not judge knows when to stoke the fire

Esteemed Reader

Esteemed Reader of Our Magazine: What is a human being for? This is a question that appears in my consciousness like Hale-Bopp streaking across the sky at unpredictable intervals. It appears at random times, on a schedule completely independent of the regular movements of celestial bodies or other contrivances like hours, weeks, or years. The…

My Ex-Life: A Novel by Stephen McCauley | Book Review

You can recognize great writers in their minor characters. For every inspiring Elizabeth Bennet, there’s a devious Caroline Bingley, and for every devastating Mr. Darcy, there’s an unfortunate Mr. Collins. Stephen McCauley belongs to an elite club of authors who create such memorable supporting roles, and in his latest, My Ex-Life, he serves up a…

Poem: Seeking Conquistadors

I can’t explain to you why I’m suddenly in the market for antique Spanish swords from our war against Iberians in Teddy Roosevelt’s Caribbean but here I am hoping that geographic cures will work— A call to arms that only the wounded would heed. It hurts to be so sober on a Friday, half past…

Editor’s Note: Trunk Sale

“What’s the point of trying to please everybody? We can’t fit them in here anyway.” —Rich Reeve, chef and co-owner of Elephant Back in the early aughts, Lee Anne and I used to frequent a place for brunch called 23 Broadway. The food was mediocre, but the Bloody Marys were good, the atmosphere was cozy,…


Gift this article