I have been out of sorts For quite some time nowIf they were something I could buyI would simply place an industrial sized boxRight there in my cart, In a proprietary wayAnd steadily push them to checkout Whereupon my sorts would be fully restoredI would make sure I had plenty for backupBecause when you’re outWellIt’s quite an inconvenience to acquire them againBut one cannot buy sorts ~Amazon doesn’t even sell them~And no one can loan you theirs until yours reappear And you can’t even rent themSorts must be carefully tendedAnd treated with respect(maybe even assertively)Because sorts appreciate directnessYou have to establish expectations Such asDo not cry in front of all these strangersStraighten your back and look pleasantAct like you’ve met the Queen loads of times beforeSorts are no-nonsenseThey’re really not much fun at allNow that I think about itBut they do make me believe my clothes look passableAnd help me remember why I got upAnd how to carry on a conversation without driftingOh, and how I should eat more than just crackers and an appleSorts are great for all thatBut while I wait for my sorts to replenish themselvesLike red blood cellsI’ll just pet my dogAnd try to concentrate on what you’re sayingAnd laugh when everybody else doesAnd smile with my eyesAnd read more than five pages a dayAnd try not to remember Before…

It is not my intention To make you think I am miserable I am merely tenderBecause I am a little sadI feel untetheredI am a little angryWith all of usAnd honestly I am quite tiredOf myselfAnd that is why I can sayI am everything I also Do not wish to conveyI am feeling Light spiritedOr apathetic The last thing I want Is to appear insensitive But I have to keep somewhat busyOr the ants in my brainTurn to termitesAnd then I’m goneJust like this morning There was no rushTo make coffeeAnd start my daySo I laid there awhileWondering if I could go back to sleepAfter only five hours One would hope soBut when I started to curl like a snailAnd my eyes began to wellI flung back my quiltAnd shook my headI will not allowSadness to overtake meLife is for livingI can embrace another dayEven if it does pale To ones beforeEven if it isn’t filledWith what I would chooseIf I had all my druthersI have notWent off my feedI have not Lived breath to breathThis timeAnd I thank God for thatMay I never drown In emotionsEver Again I have elaborated on this before, but this was in my memories today and I felt led to share. so you want to be a writer? by Charles Bukowski if it doesn’t come bursting out of youin spite of everything,don’t do it.unless it comes unasked out of yourheart and your mind and your mouthand…

Let me tell you something If you are targeting womenI would not selectTwo middle aged redheadsWho are supremely tiredOf everyone’s shitAnd wearing heelsThat hurt their feet Because not onlyAre they packing bad attitudesOne is packing a 9 mmAnd isn’t afraid to use itSo sit your ass downOn that park benchAnd decide if it’s worthHaving at least one bleeding holeTo make a woman uncomfortable Because she has a take no prisonersKind of policyAnd Shoot now Ask questions laterBecause life has not been Especially kindIt has been a good dayAnd I’d hate to ruin itWith a trip to prisonFor the likes of youLove from Appalachia,~Amy…

On my second patio of the afternoon I laughed for the first timeIn a few daysWhen my cousin texts meI try to say yesI will always brave the pollenTo eat sushiAnd drink beerAnd catch up on lifeWe will understand And have the hard conversations And tell the honest to GodTRUTHBecause no sense in sugarcoating it nowIt was supposed to rainBut I’m so glad it didn’t And now it is twilightThere is no moonNo starsBut I know they’re still thereJust like me Love from Appalachia, ~Amy…

I don’t know what I can sayIf you tell me I have sad eyesIt’s because I am sadIf you say I look tiredIt’s because I amIf you comment I’m short temperedI would cock my eyebrowBecause that’s not newsSo this afternoonI have lain my t-shirt quilt Underneath my stunted redbudI have sat upon itAnd tried to find some tranquility It’s not workingBut I don’t have anything elseI really want to doI am thankfulMy allergy pills seem to be workingAnd there has not been an invasion Of Boxelder bugsFor a few years nowI admire my ColumbinePink and yellowIt’s the little things, you seeDo I deserve to write of a battered heartOr restless nightsWhat are appropriate topicsYou reckonIf I could write of trite happinessWould my intentions shine through?So yesLush cloverInches from my faceBut still no four leaf-ers YetI wonder if you foundWhat you were looking for“You normally have to be bashed about a bit by life to see the point of daffodils, sunsets and uneventful nice days.” Alain de BottonLove from Appalachia,~Amy…

TuesdayOn ThursdayBecause TuesdayI was a jumbleAnd the last thing I wantedWas to sit in front of a keyboard and bleedBecause that is what I doIf we’re being honest about itBut TuesdayI had a horse to seeAnd I wanted softer edgesSo I blurred the lineWith Colorado Kool AidI’m no cowardBut sometimes I need a breakFrom facing life straight onI still didn’t sleepNot in the bedOr on the couchOr in the floorOr on the porchEven though I tried them allDid you knowThere are birds that sing all night?I do nowI’ve heard themBecause I saw 1:15And 3:30And seventeen other times I was awakeI was awakeBut I didn’t lookTo see if they had a bad eyeOr a wounded heartSo I didn’t mean to give you hopeThat I had given upOr that I would stop BleedingI’m sorry if you thinkI could quit that easyThank you to the friends who Know me well enoughTo know if I don’t have something to say I have lots to sayWho aren’t scaredOf my caustic tongueWho scoop and cup my spirit in their handsAs you would a hummingbirdGently, gingerly, delicatelyAnd ask, “How’s your heart today?”So I send them a poem And they say “I hate you had it in you to write it”I do too, I do tooBut I didAnd I’m still hereLove from Appalachia,~Amy…

I am so tired—And I am so thirsty—I don’t think of you,I don’t think of youI get upI get readyI don’t think of you,I don’t think of youI drive to workI check my phoneI don’t think of you,I don’t think of youI eat, I read, I fileI talk, I giggle, I smileI don’t think of you, I don’t think of youI come homeI pet my dogI don’t think of you,I don’t think of youI sit on my porchI paint my toesI don’t think of you,I don’t think of youI sigh, I drink, I cryI don’t think of you,I don’t think of youAnd at the end of the nightWhen I have made it another day,I lay downAnd I dream of you, I dream of youLove from Appalachia,~Amy…

I cannot write of redbuds and ladybugsNot nowBut I should strive to do betterFor it is spring And you need to read something much lighterThan my trialsI once had a high school English teacherWho told us“You must write of what you know”And although I know of horsesI know of heartbreak better nowI know of trout fishingI know of SEC FootballWell, I used toI find it hard to care anymoreI know of standing in the surfAnd feeling a crab run across my toesAnd a jellyfish sweep past my calvesAnd tiny fish peck inquisitively I know of mosquitoes And still nights When I lay on a quilt in my yardWatching the stars wink and sparkleAnd the moon on its journeyAnd I want to be up thereOn my own feathered wingsOr on silver onesI know of many restaurants I know River Street and all its barsI used to know all the names of Lisa’s goatsBut my head can’t contain what I still knowIt is focused on the otherAnd I have to get back Turn again, stalwartBecause that’s how I repair myselfNobody is unhappy forever No one is always happyIt’s ups and downsAnd rounds and roundsAnd I what I want is immaterial FasterFaster stillIf you could justSitYou get one tripMake it countLove from Appalachia, ~Amy…

When my dog was dyingAnd I was conflicted About easing his wayI was told not to rushThat he would let me knowThere would be signsI would know whenAnd some time laterAfter multiple frantic tripsTo the vetFor treatment After agonizing breathsAfter deterioration of spiritAfter one sleepless nightI decided I wouldn’t wait on The SignI wouldn’t wait for The LookI had a BrainAnd I could determine Together with my eyesThat he was suffering And he wasn’t getting betterWhen there are more bad days than goodIt is timeEven though he ate a biscuit Just that morning Even though he trotted to the car In anticipation of a road tripEven thoughHe didn’t want to get out at the vetThere was dignity in his passingBecause It was timeAnd it hurt till it didn’tBut I knew it was the right thingTo do by himFor himAnd nowWhen I look back at pictures And I see his pleading eyesI just hopeI didn’t wait too longAs I wasted timeLooking for a signWhen the truth was right in front of meThe whole time…

Are you awake?I want to tell you something I couldn’t write about itBack when It was too painfulAnd writing is relivingBut I remember A wise friend saidYou don’t love who he isYou love who you thought he wasWho he used to beAnd she was rightI needed that clarityI needed that insightThere were lots of things I neededBut nothing from himI bought gutter guards After scaling the roof onceJust to say I’d done itI hated how long it took For me to realizeMy strengthMy characterWhich never failed meI knew myselfI knew my happinessWasn’t solely dependent on himI knew my happinessCame from meAnd what I enjoyedAnd nothing was ever the same afterThat momentIt got betterI healedAnd I came back to lifeSparklier than beforeI like to thinkBut with wisdom to sprinkleWith graceEverywhere Love from Appalachia, ~Amy Edited to add from my favorite, Sturgill Simpson. If you need a friendDon’t look to a strangerYou know in the end, I’ll always be thereBut when you’re in doubtAnd when you’re in dangerTake a look all around, and I’ll be there I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to sayI know they don’t sound the way I planned them to beBut if you wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for meI promise, I promise you I will When your day is throughAnd so is your temperYou know what to…