Collard Greens
“…the hyssop that springeth out of the wall…”
— I Kings 4:33
The flecks greening skin after cutting collards
Are good as tattoos leafing my blood-tree of veins,
Mapping these hands I got
Adam Whipple
Adam Whipple is a musician, poet, and author living in Knoxville, Tennessee, in a house called The Watershed. A graduate of Carson-Newman University, he is an editor of Foundling House and a writer fo
Over Heard
My daughter’s dance class:
A brave octet of blue-clad torsos, all
Delicate and strung tight with snare drum ribs.
They gallop like crabs
Gone dizzy with light.
A lone piano chord sends
Liturgy in Blue
Autumn weekdays at Sinclair’s Eve bring early rising and long commutes. We wish
it was less harried, but the presence of children stretches the simplest daily
ablutions into inefficient adventures. We brush
The Sound of a Voice
I stand beside another man in casual day-wear and sing the same words and melody
he sings, and we learn from each other. I learn, among other things, that one of
us is