And he walks all day with his family, up into the hills, for it is the time after the agave hearts and screwbeans, before the rabbit drive. And they camp in the piñon groves. His boy looks for kindling while he chooses a ready tree.
Mercers Bottom, West Virginia When he sees a shadow veer in the sky, when my TV squeaks and whirs, when we can’t sleep, we blame a bird-thing, a moth-man,
We are being forced to bear the burden of dirty power for Nevada. –William Anderson, chairman of the Moapa Band of Paiutes Near the generating station Coal ash they breathe, coal ash they take in, coal ash in the water, in the air, bottom ash, fly ash,
Wheeling, West Virginia In the hot room, while the finishing men shape glass with pucellas and shears, the snapper boy tongs the gathers—jars, jugs, flasks, and bottles— into the glory hole, that they may reheat, soften, be carried by him to the sweat-slick finishers, their necks and lips to be…
A man, a woman, a husband, a wife, both had been slaves of Cherokee planters, both of mixed descent, him more African, the dark of mourning bombazine, her more Cherokee, the gold of tafia rum, Subscribe to read the full text.
1838 Soldiers pound the door with bayonets, pound while John Young Squirrel tends his baby son, pound while his small daughter eats corn-cake smeared with bear grease, while the boy gums John’s little finger. Subscribe to read the full text.