Poetry

The Tall Book

for Tony Earley and after his fashion   I’ve determined the quiet beauty of things is what I hearken to, the grace of a papery butterfly tipping over the purple frill at the tops of ironweed, the field splayed up the hill and misty, the end of summer. Nothing like…

The Way

Hindman, Kentucky, November 18, 2012 Standing beside the tree invites belief, my spirit or soul answers an easy or crazy waving leaf, or even a motionless leaf, even in winter the stark unmoving branch

The Truth on Three Lick Creek

Below the ridges, dim and low, the hollows and narrow valleys run, and pools of water prove a stream has been there once. Standing before a pool like these, painted with leaves dropped from the trees, I now believe a mind conceived this place and thought, it must be sunken…

Chicken Bristle

There’s a place near here called Chicken Bristle. It’s not a very hopeful name, but it’s out in the country and quiet. A handful of houses are clustered along a lane. The land is rolling and secret and dark.

And Then There Were Tomatoes

Summer brags outside the tall windows Inside, the air chatters winter Our workshop assignment: Describe something lost Into this season of sun and longest days I write about tomatoes Planting them in my journal of absences Alongside whippoorwill and gypsy breeze