This finalist for the New Poets Prize—also poet laureate for Hattiesburg, Mississippi—takes us on intricate tours of Saturday in a small town, the thin line between redemption and judgment, and how beauty and love unfold in everyday moments.
In West Virginia, the state with the nation’s highest rate of death by overdose, faith communities answer urgent callings from any and all.
A Kentucky poet explores who we are, the places we inhabit and the skies that shimmer above us.
He restored an old mountain cabin, wrote a sonnet to an old man and fell asleep, missing the sounds of the whippoorwill.
She moved from the mountains of Germany’s Black Forest to the mountains of Tennessee. Her welcome there felt like divine intervention.
No mother tongue is as rich as the Southern one. Our words are musical, and poetry expresses them with soul-shaking force. Annie Woodford celebrates the songs we say.
When the bulldozers topple the trees and the owls and the field mice and the feral cats are gone, who will remember?
Three verses that take us from the gorges of western North Carolina to that mess on the front porch.
Salvation South kicks off a month-long celebration of Southern poetry with a soaring essay from Annie Woodford.
Daniel Wallace’s brother-in-law was his hero. But in the journals he left behind, Wallace discovered the darkness that claimed his idol’s life.
Daniel Wallace interprets two pages from the revealing, long-lost journals of his brother-in-law, William Nealy.
Chapter 1, excerpted from “This Isn’t Going to End Well: The True Story of a Man I Thought I Knew”
Daniel Wallace is one of the South’s greatest writers, and to dive into his most recent volume is to reckon with how hard it is to make peace with yourself and with others.
