... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... girl ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... the South ..., ... winter ...

mountains me

when you return
me to the
mountains

you return
me to me

they bore
me in Cities
of men

but my form
was hewn with
granite and marble

my skin stiched
with invisible seams
of laurel and ash

kudzu and Better Boy* eyes
Brunswick stew glued
i am whole

vine ripened
towering beneath
giants, oak and pine

my blood runs
over river smoothed
stones, frigid

but pure,

when you return
me to my
mountains

they welcome me in,
a long lost friend

*a variety of tomato

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ...

waiting to Fall

ole buttermilk sky,
last dregs of Summer
hang heavy from the leaf.

people start to say,
“I’m ready for Fall”
after the blackberries

have all burned up. wet,
fat clouds float flat-
bottomed across the

sky and we daydream
of dark nights and
cool, crunchy leaves
on the sidewalks.

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... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... experimental ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... Spring ..., ... the South ..., ... time ...

A Late Winter Forest Burn

when Winter dry heaves
under black, crystal skies,
with a choke and stutter
and solemnly dies

the birds of the air,
all return to their nests
to brood and to court
with new songs in their breasts

the fox, the hare, and fawn
on bitter mornings cry
and whisper in cloudy breaths,
stretched noses to the sky

and i recline here
in my warm and cozy cave
while life erupts outside,
life inside misbehaves.

when the woods all dance
with a boisterous sound,
we light her cindered petticoat
and burn the jejune ground.

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... girl ..., ... home ..., ... L.F. ..., ... LF ..., ... life ..., ... lips ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... the South ...

good morning, Sunday

she limned me a
perfect day

with cherry smile
just the right shade,

and a brush of
golden blonde strands

it only required
a swash or two.

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... beauty ..., ... experimental ..., ... God ..., ... heartsick ..., ... home ..., ... humor ..., ... life ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ...

on a plane from san marcos to salt lake city

manevolent Forces,
and updrafts –
inspired by these
high brow
cotton fellows – spent
a few moments
in silent
deliberation.

flashes of electric
Death bolted around
and beyond and underneath
my boot clad
feet

a good six
thousand, six
hundred and
sixty-six fathoms
below, Earth
is swallowed
in white froth

mountains and
plains pressed down
by the sheer magnitude
of a once
pancaked planet

and i rest my
head in facile repose,

oblivious
to the veritable
terror of
flight

Godspeed and
all that – for

my home is down there
somewhere, beyond
the clouds.

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... addiction ..., ... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... experimental ..., ... girl ..., ... heartsick ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... pain ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... Spring ..., ... the South ..., ... time ...

the last day of winter

the chill
left with
a wimper
and we lie
on backs
in still browned
grasses, lost
amid whirling
contrails of
her departure
this is the
last day of
Winter. another
year lost – yet
we’ve aged
eons.

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