Appalachia Bare has received requests to extend our contest deadline due to Helene’s devastation in our region. We have heard you. First, Appalachia Bare offers our deep, heartfelt condolences to the people in our region . . . Continue Reading
Albritton’s poems take no prisoners. They’re raw, sensate, fierce—unapologetically so. She ferrets out the shadowy interstices lurking in . . . Continue Reading
It has been our great pleasure to have met and published so many impressive and talented people. And we are grateful for each and every one of you—our submitters, subscribers, readers, perusers, and scrollers. In these five years, we have . . . Continue Reading
. . . The entire process takes only minutes, but any sentient being can deduce that the agony is so extreme as to seem to last for eternity. I have a confession to make, Bruno. I’m going to enjoy watching you cook like a pig over a . . . Continue Reading
Hands clasped, folded like prayer
on the desk.
No notes
because you needed
none.
We traveled from Augustine
to Teddy Roosevelt in a semester,
pausing only to hear Abraham Lincoln . . . Continue Reading
I wish everyone a belated Happy New Year! I hope you and your loved ones are staying safe and warm. In East Tennessee, 2024 has come roaring through like a mad badger, bringing with it a snowstorm I hadn’t experienced since I was a child. My mind hearkens to winters in the holler. We were essentially trapped for weeks at a time back in the beautiful dark places, where mountains hide the sun so that it barely glints across the valley, let alone the backroads burdened with ice under snow under ice under snow.Continue Reading
We’re nearing the end of the year and the holiday/ winter season is just around the corner. The chilled air carries a magical, fresh scent; holiday bells jingle our benevolent ears; families and friends gather for grand meals or just plain old togetherness. This season affords us the chance to hear our family stories, our histories, our proud moments, and some we might like to sweep under the rug.Continue Reading
He didn’t know how many generations had lived in the house. All he knew was that the man and woman who’d lived there before had died from cancer and that the woman had obviously been an avid flower gardener. The evidence lay stacked in the old weather-hammered garage above whoseContinue Reading
Thank you for joining us as we continue celebrating Appalachian poet and novelist, George Scarbrough’s birthday with part 2 of Edward Francisco‘s “Christ-Hauntedness in George Scarbrough’s Invitation to Kim.” Christ-Hauntedness in Scarbrough’s Invitation to Kim . . . As before, the reader senses that Scarbrough’s “love of profligate /Continue Reading
I met J. W. Williamson in 2000 when we were both reading papers at a literary conference at Emory and Henry University in Emory, Virginia. I’d read his 1995 book Hillbillyland: What the Movies Did to the Mountains and What the Mountains Did to the Movies, and was looking forwardContinue Reading