“Mountain Edging” by Megan Krupa
When you’re on the edge,
you’d expect a century to look
a little less like itself.
Full of newness and breath,
but maybe it’s . . . Continue Reading
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When you’re on the edge,
you’d expect a century to look
a little less like itself.
Full of newness and breath,
but maybe it’s . . . Continue Reading
Love that churned butter
stirred soup beans,
fried fruit pies,
Love that could read your fortune
in . . . Continue Reading
Make me the promise
that you’ll never leave
this coal slurry town.
Sing . . . Continue Reading
I think it is a snake, see how it bends.
Kate says it is a hound, sleek for the chase,
but whether hound or snake, swift it was not,
for old men who use canes . . . Continue Reading
Her deep connection with these Appalachian Mountains is evident in her poetry. Her words encapsulate the very essence of this region – from ancestors to the natural world and in between. Her own mountain spirit and philosophy of interconnectedness flow through her poetry . . .Continue Reading
It was early springtime, where down by the sleepy willows,
brilliantly flocked buttercups were . . . Continue Reading
Clouds pinwheel
atop mountain-pleated land,
celebrating . . . Continue Reading
Wistful air in the resting field of
The fallen and beloved, who
Have taken a lifetime to finally rest . . . Continue Reading
Hands clasped, folded like prayer
on the desk.
No notes
because you needed
none.
We traveled from Augustine
to Teddy Roosevelt in a semester,
pausing only to hear Abraham Lincoln . . . Continue Reading
It’s the green I miss the most
When I close my eyes and imagine home.
Roads that wind like snakes over the mountains,
Through a tunnel of leaves as bright as any stained glass–Continue Reading
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