Criticism

His writing is devastating in its beauty, evoking West Virginia’s mountain hollows with a sinewy and precise prose that comes as close to Hemingway as anything I’ve ever read.

On Saturday, when I come to see
my brother, they call him, over loudspeaker,
to the tower—a small guardroom

The water clock makes into a measure
a flow so continuous none can say

I wanted to say I have come home
to bear witness, to read the sign
emblazoned on the church marquee—

We’re at the Potts Mountain Shooting Range
on a hot day in March, blowing ammo,

Don’t make the mistake of calling her
angel or saint. The tremendous broad crowning
Troy’s war monument grips her sword

Here is my solitary city. This island of steel
and avenue. Towers with skeletons of organ

This week they are painting
the North Gulfport water tower.

On her wedding day, a bride should slip a good penny into her shoe
to ensure luck and wealth during the life of her marriage.