Got my mamma’s lips
but I dot my eyes like him
or so I’m told.
She taught me how to stand.
He taught me how to walk
into a classroom
up to a podium
and pretend
it was just the front porch
a collection of tree stumps
a circle of kin.
Everything I know
about the Ohio River Valley
Appalachian Literature
and post-modern community activism
I learned while riding
shotgun
into the mountains
marveling at his Mecca
Once
after a short hike
from Hindman to Hazard to Hazel Green
he pushed his glasses back on his nose
held up two chalk board hands
and said
“
what I see happening is this?”
then proceeded to map out
concentric typographical circles
with grass roots
that ignored
continental and racial divides
and I believed
and have watched it all
unfold and spiral around me
just like he said it would
Some see
a silver sage
a bespectacled Daniel Boone
with his fountain pen cocked
I see
my literary father.