Tagged Poetry

On the second weekend in June, a pack of strange and wonderful people descends upon the Cedar Lakes Conference Center in the green hills of Ripley, West Virginia. They’re artsy folk, young and old, with a...

We put traction to the dirt The sweat on our necks and the tears under our eyes  are not just pleas but fuel No matter what you do no matter what you hurt or take we will always have...

"How far to Thomas now?" Allegheny Mountain in the August twilight. Photo by Andrew Carroll. We both know the answer, roughly, but Caleb asks me anyway, partly out of habit, partly for the excuse to...

This Poet Laureate’s pace when he’s publicly reading his work is sometimes somewhat swift and steamed, but when Marc Harshman is embracing a conversation, the author chooses his words most carefully....

cold porch lights chase me thirty miles per hour downhill to the Ohio past bison in greasy fields old company town hollow filled by skinny creek run full of yellow dog seeps out back behind a mine...

           We give the mountains our names / and they stand still…  — Irene McKinney  Walnut Springs Mountain Reserve, near Union in Monroe County, West Virginia. Photo by Steve...

Your river veins, your heart of coal Seneca’s body, Spruce’s soul A quiet perfection–to some, unknown It is you, my God, my home Quivering dewdrop tracing stem Shaded eaves for root and...