Down at Mullens every porch has a puffed couch
or wooden rockers where locals sit for a spell
watching gravel trucks rumble on past
Coal Country Bar and Grill, always crammed . . . Continue Reading
The ghosts lie prostrate in the land
While I cross where berms were planned
As monuments to great last stands
And retreats tinged with shame.
Cannons cross at the Dead Angle,
Where North and South were once entangled
And Southern hope was slowly strangled.
Then . . . Continue Reading
. . . for now, I find shallow water
and sit on a rock facing west,
a creek exhilarates my bare feet
as it . . . Continue Reading
My father was coal dusted and bent from the mines
But he saw that I had a degree
He taught me to hold a jack rock as . . . Continue Reading
. . . on Sunday morning to church. The preacher was
half-way through his sermon, when I felt something
crawling on my back. Thinking it was a fly, I rubbed
my back and realized it was . . . Continue Reading
Her bare feet shoved into slip on shoes
A cigarette dangling from her lips.
Windows down, my . . . Continue Reading
Blessed be the small town girl
Who dreams of city lights,
Chinatowns, and . . . Continue Reading
We rise at dawn,
Your nose still scrunched from slumber.
I meditate to the sound of the sparrows,
My prayer to . . . Continue Reading
Stood amongst the echoes of the Cherokee’s despair,
where sorrow’s soil has sprouted hope, the Rose does declare.
Its roots entwined with . . . Continue Reading
Strip mining decapitates the mountains
Their remains are dumped into rivers
Many tears have been shed by the sky . . . Continue Reading