Relics (audio only)
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More by this poet
Sitting at Night on the Front Porch
I’m here, on the dark porch, restyled in my mother’s chair.
10:45 and no moon.
Below the house, car lights
Swing down, on the canyon floor, to the sea.
In this they resemble us,
Dropping like match flames through the great void
Under our feet.
In this they resemble her, burning and disappearing.
Everyone’s gone
And I’m here, sizing the dark, saving my mother’s seat.
2017
Appalachian Book of the Dead IV (audio only)
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1997
Body and Soul (audio only)
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2011