Summer Job
At the end of the work day
you could tell exactly how far you had gotten
and how much farther you had to go.
Southern Poets
Slow Nights in the Bass Boat
Some nights when the fishing slows,
when the stripers
and hybrids drift through the cove like elusive thoughts,
you crank in the jig, prop the rod in the boat.
Men on Strike
Men on parade. Men
migrant Hispanic and red
necks in long hair clean
shaven the kind my
daddy bought parts from never
touching some of them
could rewire your grand
ma’s house sharing their wife’s tort
illas.
Somewhere in My Body Are Two Flowers for the Same Person
I do not always have the right thing to say
farm poems, Poems, Southern Poets, Tributes
At the Edge of the Hennessey Farm
The Paint nickered, trotted toward us, lowered its broad soft nose to our dog, and I wondered why dogs and
Essays, Southern Poets, Tributes
“Beyond Geography: Why I’m a Southern Poet” by William Wright
William Wright BEYOND GEOGRAPHY: WHY I’M A SOUTHERN POET Not to be glib, but I have to at least acknowledge