Advice for a Mountain Laureate
A buck-knife grips its butcher-song.
Be abeyant, sharp, hanging on a hook.
Watch kudzu thrive, reclaim
unemployment office parking lots.
And when an ambulance opens its doors
to the portal of a mine,
Open your big, garish heart,
that fiery steel furnace, men — some deaf,
some dead — banked day and night for years.
The way to leave us by going in.