One fine autumn day, a few months after my father passed away, my mother and I sat at the old cherrywood dining table and waxed nostalgic over old photographs. Like always, I soaked up every word and story, relishing even the stories I’ve heard over and over – about soContinue Reading
James Agee’s “Knoxville: Summer 1915” may arguably be the most beautiful prose poem in English. A prose poem is a hybrid sharing characteristics of both prose and poetry. A striking example would be the Old Testament book of Psalms found in the King James translation of the Bible. “Knoxville: SummerContinue Reading
I have found the outdoors to be the savior of my sanity, and not solely because I am an “outdoorsy” person. The truth is that science confirms the health and mental benefits of getting outside, yet many people in a modern, technologically advanced world seem to be missing out. ResearchContinue Reading
**On a mobile format this book review is best viewed using landscape orientation. Danita Dodson is a contemplative, a mystic, and an alchemist whose feet are planted solidly in the turf of the natural world – particularly that of East Tennessee. As the poems in her debut collection, TrailingContinue Reading
Autumn is the season of dying and death – but life, as in our own experience, carries on. Winter, to me, is the first season of life. In temperate zones, perennial plants, most notably trees, are asleep in winter. Thing is, a lot of infant vegetative color appears throughout theContinue Reading
“I want to walk with Dada,” Eli announces. I smile to myself when I hear his little six-year-old voice. On this October day, a clear, expansive sky spreads across the land. My boy runs to me and takes my hand. Tall grass, gradually fading to brown in the autumn season,Continue Reading
We Southerners cherish our “characters” – eccentrics and outliers who intensify the spiciness of life. Take William Faulkner. To his neighbors in Oxford, Mississippi, Faulkner was “count no count,” a little bitty fellow who put on airs while sporting a limp and a cane and donning a cape for hisContinue Reading
A note from the poet: This poem was inspired by “Appalachian Elegy #6,” a poem from a larger collection by the late Bell Hooks who passed away on December 16th. I wrote “Giles county rapture” before Ms. Hooks’ untimely passing, and, in my most naïve moments, I had hoped thatContinue Reading
Tennessee Red Cob Grasping the bound ear with the heel of my left hand, I pierce the top shucks with both thumbs, punching open a slit. Dry husks rip with a groan and squeak as the great creamy teeth gleam. Another hard tug frees the whole magnificent horn ofContinue Reading
Earlier this year, Appalachia Bare’s Tom Anderson attended a bare-hands baseball game hosted by the Historic Ramsey House. He wrote an article about the experience you can find here. Subsequently, Ramsey House invited us to cover the Celtic and Appalachian Music Festival. We felt so honored to be there. TheContinue Reading