The long, gray moss that softly swings In solemn grandeur from the trees, Like mournful funeral draperies,-- A brown-winged bird that never sings. A shallow, stagnant, inland sea, Where rank swamp grasses wave, and where A deadliness lurks in the air,-- A sere leaf falling silently. The death-like
Established in 1942, the state poet laureate position in Louisiana is currently held by Ava Leavell Haymon. Haymon is the author of four poetry collections, including Eldest Daughter, published by Louisiana State University Press in 2013. She has received the Louisiana Literature Prize for poetry, the L. E. Phillabaum Poetry Award, and the Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters. She is a teacher and directs a summer retreat center for writers and artists.
recent & featured listings
|Writing Program||Xavier University of Louisiana||Louisiana|
|Literary Magazine||Xavier Review Press||Louisiana|
|Literary Organization||Writers Guild of Acadiana||Louisiana|
|Conference||Words & Music: A Literary Feast in New Orleans||Louisiana|
|Writing Program||University of New Orleans||Louisiana|
|Writing Program||University of Louisiana at Lafayette||Louisiana|
|Writing Program||Tulane University||Louisiana|
|Literary Magazine||Tulane Review||Louisiana|
|Literary Magazine||The Southern Review||Louisiana|
Eenee Menee Mainee Mo!
—Rudyard Kipling, "A Counting-Out Song,"
in Land and Sea Tales for Scouts and Guides, 1923
The woman with cheerleading legs has been left for dead. She hot paces a roof, four days, three nights, her leaping fingers, helium
I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids