by Do South | Mar 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”fiction: Marla Cantrell”][/title] Allie Walker pushed aside two trashcans that held chicken feed, scooted past the riding lawn mower and grabbed her ex-husband’s handsaw. The shed was dark, even when the sun was out, surrounded as it...
by Do South | Feb 1, 2015 | Southern Lit, Southern Verse
[title subtitle=”words: Marla Cantrell”][/title] The road is wet with rain, and I am on it,gripping the steering wheel, heading to hear James Taylor sing the songs my mama played as she drove me to school, the ones she sang to me on those fevered...
by Do South | Jan 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
T-Buddy looked out the window above his narrow bed. Rain had turned to ice during the night, and now the limbs of his pecan tree appeared to be covered in glass. He knew one thing; he wouldn’t be going in today. His own mama was killed on the highway, back when he was...
by Do South | Dec 1, 2014 | Southern Lit, Southern Verse
[title subtitle=”fiction: Marla Cantrell”][/title] Me and Hollis are bundled up and sitting on his front porch and we’re listening to the old stuff – Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Eddie Arnold, Roy Acuff, Kitty Wells – and we’re comparing them to some of the...
by Do South | Oct 1, 2014 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”Words: Marla Cantrell”][/title] She was wearing a dark blue velvet dress, cut low at the neckline, a slit running up the right side of her long skirt. Her hair, black as night, was in loose curls past her shoulders. What I remember most is...
