Shopping Cart
    items

      August 9, 2021Cold Spring Morning and the Grade SchoolEdison Jennings

      Cold spring morning and the grade-school
      kitchen ladies pack quick-fix meals for poor kids
      because the rona’s on a killing spree while they bitch
      about the parents because most are probably tweekers,
      dopers, drunks, or immigrants ripping off America
      because we give too much away while a holy DJ shills
      Jesus love for dollars, hawking heaven for donations
      so Christ the Risen Lord can feed the poor and hungry,
      because their pay is lousy and arthritis spikes
      their bones and the grandkids’ dad’s not married
      to the grandkids’ mom, so they sneak out quick-fix meals
      and no one says a thing because that would be so wrong,
      because they have to feed the kids now that daddy’s gone to jail
      and who knows where the mom is? maybe she’s detoxing,
      but the Jesus shilling DJ is off the air at last and Dolly’s singing
      Coat Of Many Colors and now Aretha raises rafters
      with You’ll Never Walk Alone, and someone mutters amen
      and another sing it sister and then as if on cue
      someone drops a stack of trays and someone laughs
      and then a couple more because the righteous racket
      is bouncing off the floor, clattering like cymbals
      that set the kitchen ringing and making joyful noise.

      from #72 – Summer 2021

      Edison Jennings

      “I live in Virginia at the pointy end where it slides like a scalpel into the interstices of Kentucky, Tennessee, and North Carolina, with West Virginia nuzzling all cozy to the north, which is to say, I live in Appalachia, coal country, hill country, MAGA country—bigotry, fundamentalism, meth labs, and guns (lots of guns). It’s also beautiful, and its people are tough and weathered victims of predatory capitalism who have suffered scorn and ridicule. I write about it because, as Maurice Manning put it, ‘aesthetic value is not simply the stuff of high art, but a feature of all human vitality—even the commonest among us has an idea of art, because … it is always a human expression.’”