literature poetry sociology Southern Gothic

blades of grass

i long for the way

your stubble beard felt on my little girl skin

my fingers tracing stars on your sandpaper

how safe it was

to curl up on your chest

tucked beneath your chin

as we swayed gently

in your old leather rocker


dozing and certain god was in heaven


there are days now


when i’ve come to believe

jesus called in sick for the second coming

and my fingers running through

blades of grass on your grave

would do

literature relationship studied The British Royal Crown

god save the queen

this poem

just placed its fingers

to delicate collar bone

and looked at you in such a way

that only a woman who knows

her daddy was a well deposed king

may do

silently saying

were he not my father

i could love you


Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

irreplaceable things

i wouldn’t call it an altar

it’s less official
merely a shelf of irreplaceable things

two garnets
the twins’ birth stones

a statue sculpted
by a local artist named mckeown
of me
holding the boys
right after they were born

a silver piece from my brother

a two dollar bill from my grandfather

memaw’s watch and engagement ring

a rosary i bought when i was 10 from a thrift store because it spoke to me

and a small framed photograph
of my mother and father
taken after a late night of playing rook
with friends

him standing behind her
when they were in love

my father eyes are full of whiskey
my mother sober as a baptist judge
and you can tell by the way
she cradles his hands
around her waist
that she is tired
and keenly aware
all things are fleeting

it wasn’t until this day i noticed
they are posed
by the back door of our long ago little house
in the picture

as if they are leaving

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

thank you for always having a piano

thank you, mom

for making me
the daughter
of red injuns
white pastors
tobacco farmers
beauty queens
swaggering outlaws
and world famous circus giants

thank you
for my self worth
and sass

thank you for the thousandth book
you ever read to me
and lined the walls of my room with
hard bound histories passed down through the family
golden books, encyclopedias, dictionaries

thank you for giving me my grasp of language as a gift

thank you for making kentucky my cradle
and giving me cincinnati as my own personal museum and medical library

thank you for every time your arms have caught me as i was falling

thank you for always having a piano

thank you for your love

thank you, mom

for making me

poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends


there is an old reel to reel memory

burned onto my psyche’s screen

of my fallen god

the father

throwing a planet sized

console television set out the front door

off the porch

and into the yard

in a fit of rage


eventually replaced by a larger zenith console tv

to erase the damage done


the scene horrified me for years

as his vengeance that night

could not be contained

by the red brick of the house


but as i bashed a $3oo cell phone

with a hammer

into the floor of a deserving verizon store

a warming contentment wrapped it’s arms around me


i realized i truly am my father’s daughter

and i loved him all the more for

the genetic ability

to shatter minds and electronics


poetry Uncategorized

the filling station

i didn’t remember
the place
it held no special
in fact
upon stopping
i concluded it presented with
the patina of a general store
that hasn’t been patronized
since the civil war

a defunct garage
whose oil slicks
and greasy fingerprints
never quite faded
the filling station still attached
vestigial limbs
and all i need of the world
is a damned ginger ale

the olfactory sense

indeed smell

is most closely tied
and evocative of
long forgotten memories
upon crossing the ruin’s threshold
this dynamic enveloped me

time faded
to a sepia and cream
this is the autumn
of my second year on earth
yes two
because that’s how many fingers
i’m told to hold up

i am in his left arm
too little to walk here
black suede cologne
and blue shirt i cling to

candy cigarettes, circus peanuts,
loose tobacco, boston baked beans,
royal crown cola,
and ring pops
observed for sale

he bought me a much wanted moon pie

the color flooded over
back to now
and my cheeks are wet

but how good it was
to see him

to be carried again