The stories from Main Street have teeth. They grin and grunt. Today as small town America feels assaulted by Congress and Wall Street, my community feels insulated. We are the end of the road but we are start up. The characters in my book go through trials posed by drugs, alcoholism, and sexual assaults. They muddle through and bounce back like a mountain echo. They also wander little known trails. Main Street is alive and well and on its way! Read my book to see what freedom there is in an off road mecca, like Hazard, Kentucky. It is lean fiction. No bones about it! Trials and trails go hand-in-hand.
See http://www.hazardgal.com
Tag Archives: Appalachia
My Bridge to Somewhere
Each morning I see the difference. More
and more joists and rivets and a river idling by.
A river that whispers in this drought and looks
skyward. Men that hoist metal with cranes;
huddled along train tracks, often leaning
on old tires. I cross the old one twice a day.
Grooves worn deep. Now, I am half asleep,
and vines creep beneath the rusty bones.
I have come to a dead stop.
Writer’s block is real as a flat tire.
But the way my wheels hum upon
the old bridge is assuring. And
I have a toolbox bulging with gadgets.
Men in yellow hard hats are ripping
and reaching the other side in
near darkness. Maybe I must burn
one bridge to begin another. Maybe
my arms can span the diminished waters.