Monthly Archives: March 2012

Treet™, Trash, and Pride: Finding Out What It Means for Me to Be Southern, essay by Kevin Brown

I have lived almost all of my life in the South, but I have nev­er felt par­tic­u­lar­ly South­ern.  How­ev­er, the two years I have lived out­side of the South have taught me just how wrong I have been.  They have … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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The Miner's Friend, by Jeff Kerr

I fight the Mack truck around the bends of the moun­tains and I’m god­damned tired. Going back to pick up the last load of coal at Num­ber 16 over on the Vir­ginia side. My arm is sun­burnt and hangs out … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Kicking to Go On, fiction by Samuel Snoek-Brown

His heart knocked like a fist against his breast­bone as his own knuck­les beat against the heavy met­al door. A des­per­ate yap­ping came ric­o­chet­ing toward him from inside. He bounced on his feet to keep warm; he hadn’t imag­ined a … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Missions after Midnight, poem by Misty Skaggs

The white, hot, halo­gen flash of head­lights splits two lane dark­ness of a Sat­ur­day night in the sticks. We fly around curves. Float up and over hills and hollers. Asphalt slinks over ridges like a fat, black, snake. And we fol­low the snake. Blind, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Noise, fiction by Allen Hope

At a quar­ter past six Slade real­ized he’d not make it to Marilyn’s Pub ‘n Sub in time for his meet-up with Jack­son Saun­ders. He knew Saun­ders was a stick­ler for punc­tu­al­i­ty, but he still hoped to find him parked … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Poems by Joshua Michael Stewart

GO TO SLEEP YOU LITTLE BABY In her arms is a blue-eyed boy with a dirty face. Under her flow­ered dress, she has anoth­er on the way. They’ve been liv­ing out of an ’85 Buick Riv­iera, park­ing all along the … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Dog Days, fiction by Kevin Winchester

Even before the cash changes hands Ard is think­ing of how quick­ly the eight ball will be gone. The count looks light but it always does any more. He unwraps the twist tie, touch­es his lit­tle fin­ger to the rock, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Razor Dance, poem by Wendy Ellis

Bill stood in his socks a thou­sand times before this dim­pled mir­ror– at this pit­ted, stained sink with its small rub­ber plug on a lit­tle, coiled chain. Bill's straight razor rest­ed across the top of a heavy ceram­ic shav­ing mug. The mug held … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Poems by Karen Lockett Warinsky

Tough Girls We were a lit­tle afraid of those girls– tough girls in our town– the life they came from.   Lank hair, wiry bod­ies with taut faces, expres­sions hard­ened by scant meals, their eyes plunged through ours as they sized us up, black liq­uid eye­lin­er … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Mama's Last Love Song, poem by Joe Samuel Starnes

The sun goes down and it gets cold. Our chil­dren are behav­ing like dogs. The snakes are sleep­ing deep in their holes, fiery red and orange has fad­ed from the leaves and our cups are brim­ming with bour­bon. A blue sky is slow­ly … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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