it’s called Tater Knob
hand-thrown pottery for sale
drive 10 miles turn left
where Blue Lick turns to gravel
family run, cells don’t work 

There’d been the best choice to stack their toys,
teach them well
to arrange all in happier groups, families,

and play with trifles and treasures instead of 
electronics, ever making pat excuses
screens would ready them for the future;

instead my babies howled as never expected
the day I swept and hauled
every toy and block away. I was screaming, 

furious, and frothing that she was going
to leave it, making me do it
since I complained to her for so long.

This is one of my greatest sorrows in life.
I threw away the bricks.
My son never built his cathedral.

you wondered into a forest without concern and no thought of return,

yugen

you laughed at a joke and didn’t define why,

yugen

you went nowhere into pregnant space and didn’t know what would become of it,

yugen

you held a leaf from last fall and looked at the one still hanging on a tree so tall,

yugen

you looked at a whirlpool and realized no water permanently staying in,

yugen

you watched the beautiful stranger pass by and wondered if they’d ever see you again,

yugen

pain eased from acetaminophen as you watch the minnow swim and it floats away after a spin,

yugen 

Illustrious there atop the wall
the Eggs Supreme risk crack.
They’ve no ethics rail to hinder fall
and temptation’s rife atop the wall.
With no guard in place to impede a fall,
some Eggs Supreme exploit the lack,
traduce their seats atop the wall,
deal Court of Eggs Supreme a crack.

I am a strong, Appalachian woman
Raised by strong, Appalachian women
Tougher’n a pine knot, and proud of it

We were molded by the hand of God to
Withstand whatever cards we are dealt
Here in these mountains we call home

For so many generations we have been
Learning to cultivate a life here, a place
That not everyone can learn how to tame 

I am of granny witches and healer women
Mountain magic and old herabl remedies 
A world within a world that should not exist

Yet it does exist; it is here and it is everywhere
Mountain magic made by barefeet and hands
Calloused from giving and giving and giving 

A horse shoe over the door; salt in the corner 
A breath blown into the mouth of a child that
Will cure the thrush; hands laid to stop blood

Us women of the mountains are so many things
Keepers of ancient secrets
Knowers of the seen and unseen

all they gave
to honor
my son
shot down
by mass shooter 
do I praise the joy
he gave
Or denounce
the killer
with hate
I chose
not to stoop
down
but professed
my love
and loss
of my
boy’s
shining
Light.

Cymbals and untuned strings
as I drew my bow across the violin,
it sang for me in nightmare melodies
of childhood dreams,
and I am not afraid,
I ride them like waves,
surfing the curl and chop
all the way onto shore break.

Through thousands of days
And a million ways
Over tongues and into arteries
Feeding fragile hearts
The power of three tiny words is enough to move mountains of doubt.
And I have to believe,
Through it all
They are enough.

I am sorry
for the mess
I will leave. 

I have never been tidy. 

Climbing from the shadows 
Returning from ashes
Lacing up my bootstraps 
Hoisting myself from the saying 
“If rock-bottom had a basement ” 
I should have a tshirt printed by now 
I’ve been there before 
So many times over
One thing’s for sure 
Failure isn’t an option that lives here anymore 
And gambling and coin tossed losses 
Have all but worn out their welcome here
I’m getting older and growing tired. 
My body and spirit are ready for a change 
Vibrations from the earth feel unsteady 
Or maybe it’s just me 
Either way I need to just lay down for while
Let tomorrow’s be, come what may
Maybe with my forties coming 
I’ll just hope to catch a nap
On a Sunday afternoon 
Under a tree or on a couch
While the sun warms my skin

Either way, I wholeheartedly hope 
Tomorrow brings you, we, and us.