Jean Rodenbough: Two Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I've been published before in Dead Mule, and I'm still a Southerner. I have trouble identifying which Southern state is which on a map if the name is missing—states south of North Carolina, anyway. But I can't find France on a world map either unless it bears a title. I eat collard greens occasionally, grits at breakfast (my mother served grits at dinner), fried chicken when I get tired of other kinds of meat, but I don't care much for mince meat pie. . . .
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Michelle Hartman: Two Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
Michelle Hartman was left on a doorstep in Fort Worth lo these many years ago by a band of post-reactionary, Pagan Gypsies. After a grueling four years at the Martha Stewart School for Exceptional Females she took her rightful place beside the lucky man who won her in the county "Ho Down". She's taking a break today from polishing silver, planning a week of gourmet meals, buffing the handcuffs nicks off the headboard, and building one hundred and twenty rabbit figures from various sizes of marshmallows, to share her poetry and short thoughts on a complete life.
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Danny P. Barbare: Southern Tea
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I love sweet iced tea. Pecan pie. Have two trees in the yard. And one large Magnolia I could once jump over; it's now about 40 feet tall.
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Robert Howell: Tonight
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I was born and raised in Lakeland, Florida. That ought to be enough.
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Nicole Yurcaba: White December
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
Nicole Yurcaba is a West Virginian bear huntin' poet, backwoods feminist, farm hand, adjunct instructor of English—basically a Jill-of-all-trades-mistress-to-none. Her family on the maternal side hails from Southern West Virginia and Kentucky. She is finely trained in the Southern art of bear huntin' and 'coon-huntin' with hound (RIP--IKE). When not writing poetry or short stories, she enjoys outfishing and outhunting her father and boyfriend in the wild mountains of eastern West Virginia. In the schools where she teaches, she is the only instructor to teach class while wearing cowgirl-cut Wranglers, Laredo cowboy boots, and a Confederate flag belt buckle.
In life, she refuses to buy a map; doing so could ruin everything.
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Jamie Poole: All of me
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I was born and raised in Saraland, AL. I love biscuits, cheese grits, and okra. All of my words have at least two syllables, and I've been cow tippin. I am legit. :)
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Jim Davis: In a Coffee Shop in the Plaza on Weed Street
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I spent this weekend past in Bethesda, Maryland, burying and celebrating my Grandmother – a Williams/Davis/Hoover who first was Pessou, a branch of the Louisiana swamp grass family come east upon the war of northern aggression. The small clapboard church atop the hill in which she and our family have gone to rest since the 1700s is lined with framed etchings of Generals Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee; acorns from the chapel’s ancient oak are planted across the south, east, mid- and mountain west in her honor. Davises, many, have been schooled at Sewanee (the University of the South), and my Godfather, Bob, went to earn his MD at the U. of Tennessee. Mine come from the southern banks of the Mississippi and the horse pastures of Rattle and Snap, where southern charm, manners, and hospitality have not been lost on the branches of the Davis tree – not too an affinity for vodka-lemonade on a dusky sun porch, finding ways to beat the heat, and life with deep appreciation of our firmly planted roots.
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Tanya Grae: Four Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I was born in Sumter, South Carolina while Daddy was stationed at Shaw, though I consider Tennessee home. Uprooted and moved cross-country many times during childhood, summers were spent in Smyrna at Mema and Daddy Tom’s, plus sleep overs at Aunt Ada’s (say A-der). I grew up on fried chicken, bbq, bacon, pinto beans, chow-chow, and fried pies. Nene (Mema’s mama) always crumbled her cornbread in a china cup and ate it like cereal. Daddy Tom was Smyrna’s judge for years, and everyone knows everyone, so don’t go airing your drawers out. Manners are so important, how you speak to others, and offer concern and respect, that you can spot a Yankee right away. I was raised on yes, sir, and no, ma’am, and that’s just how it is. If it wasn’t, well there was surely a switch with my name on it out in the yard. My Cherokee grandmother, Mama Red, was too sweet for that, and she’s the only saint I know. A Southern woman is the strongest spirit, so don’t go kicking her like the dog you hate or a half-dead mule—cause fool, you just won’t.
Denise K. James: Four poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I grew up in Florence, South Carolina and now reside in Charleston. The coast is where I feel most at home, inhaling the scent of the marsh and making post-beach sandwiches with homegrown tomatoes.
William Wright Harris: Four Ekphrastik Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I was born in Memphis and live in Knoxville; where I attend the University of Tennessee. Some of the more interesting things I have eaten are deer jerky, barbecued alligator, and squirrel-meat omelet.
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Mary Alice MacDonald: Four Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I grew up in central North Carolina, just a few hours away from beaches or mountains. A considerable portion of my childhood summer days were spent in the Ozarks in Arkansas climbing the Mimosa tree in Uncle Berlie's yard and eating biscuits and chocolate gravy for breakfast. I swam in spring-fed creeks, rode horses to church, and slept through (hellfire & brimstone) sermons. Another large portion of my childhood was spent sweating in tent revivals and church meetings in Florida, Tennessee, Alabama, and generally everywhere south of Ohio and east of Texas. I'm the preacher's daughter. I know where yonder is and how much is in a mess of mustard greens, and Kentucky has provided me with a lifelong allegiance to bourbon and poetry.
Joycelyn Renette: Four Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
Knock-kneed and barefoot, eating fresh pecans on Mama D porch; the South was always about surviving; staying above that which can easily bring you down. Walking the same Mason-Dixie line with those still engrossed in America’s fabric; blood, slave stained fabric dripping with racial relevance. From the cattle and horse fields of Texas to the citrus trees of Florida groves, the South was always about surviving; keeping firm faith amongst a storm. Double consciousness becomes the very entity that keeps a collard green, chittlins, cornbread eating child’s mind intact; acknowledging that I am in a world that will never fully accept me for my color is seen first. No matter my age, regardless the decade, the words, “nigger girl!” have still been yelled out of a school bus window at me. Much has changed in the South, yet under the surface much is at a progressive standstill.
Kevin Ridgeway:Three Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I am a California boy, born and bred. The paternal side of my family is wonderfully southern, hailing from scattered places–Oklahoma, Missouri and Arkansas, especially. My grandfather was a proud southerner, although a drinker and unstable character of ill repute–one you might find in a Carson McCullers novel, perhaps. The most time I’ve actually spent in the South has been in airports–but I could smell its beauty and hear its music having my curbside smokes on those layovers, and I could see the majesty of its landscape from my cabin window. Much of the music I love comes from the South, and much of the literature I love comes from the south. The South is in my blood and it owns a part of my spirit. Most of my dreams take place in the South.
Poetry
Essays
