Order Issue 103
“Of Thorns,” “Trundle,” “Liquid Assets,” “The Hill Itself”
. . . in that shabby closeness, that’s where whatever it is that saves me is,where, praise to be something, it waits in briars like Jesus or literature.
For so many years I thought of myself as a Kentucky poet, and for many years, I proudly wrote about Kentucky, or at least my small, cave-hollowed corner of it.