These three poems excerpted from “Scorched Earth” reckon with a mother’s face, the devil’s music, and what miracles can happen on a plain day.

In the natural world, one thing always leads to another.

From Nashville to national acclaim, Tiana Clark’s poetry challenges readers to embrace the fullness of Black experience and the radical act of rest.

Even as we march forth into the future, we can’t stop wrestling with the past. Three poems about what time whispers in our ears.

Sometimes the littlest things can set us off: a vegetable, a sibling’s smile, the taste of a certain beer, imagining someone who’s gone is still here. Maybe love lives that low—all the way down to the molecular level of the everyday.

An award-winning poet’s reflection on aging, intimacy, and how to navigate the sometimes comical waters of companionship.

After her daughter was caught in the crossfire of a shootout, Jacqueline Allen Trimble penned a poem that asks: how do we sing when every note sounds like a gunshot?

Making biscuits turns everything into a song of praise, lament, and uncertainty.

Through the lens of a childhood birthday party, a Southern poet confronts inherited prejudices from his youth.

From gasoline-scented memories to the purple of maternal exhaustion, these poems capture the raw essence of Appalachian childhood and the profound wisdom of letting go.

A poet-ecologist’s morning run becomes a journey through time, revealing the layered history of a Southern college town.

Nature is delicate. Lies are persistent. Love is steadfast.