Hair--braided chestnut, coiled like a lyncher's rope, Eyes--fagots, Lips--old scars, or the first red blisters, Breath--the last sweet scent of cane, And her slim body, white as the ash of black flesh after flame.
An award-winning poet and novelist, Judson Mitcham was named poet laureate of Georgia in 2012 by Governor Nathan Deal. His writings, which examine basic human themes within the specific landscape of Georgia, are both poignant and powerful. Although much of Mitcham's educational background is centered in psychology, Mitcham has taught workshops in poetry and fiction at Mercer University, and has also served as adjunct professor of creative writing at the University of Georgia and at Emory University, where he has directed the Summer Writers' Institute.
Sep 01 2017 to Sep 03 2017
The AJC Decatur Book Festival is the largest independent book festival in the country and one of the five largest overall. Since its launch, more than 1,000 world-class authors and hundreds of thousands of festival-goers have crowded the historic downtown Decatur square to enjoy book signings, author readings, panel discussions, an interactive children's area, live music, parades, cooking demonstrations, poetry slams, writing workshops, and more.
This year's festival features poets Chen Chen, Paisley Rekdal, Erika L. Sánchez, and many more.
10:00am to 4:00pm
101 E Court Square30030 Decatur, Georgia
recent & featured listings
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||Outwrite Bookstore||Georgia|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||Humpus Bumpus Books||Georgia|
|Writing Program||Emory University||Georgia|
|Writing Program||University of Georgia||Georgia|
|Writing Program||Georgia College & State University||Georgia|
|Small Press||Snake Nation Press||Georgia|
|Literary Magazine||Georgia Review||Georgia|
|Literary Magazine||Five Points||Georgia|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||A Capella Books||Georgia|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||A Novel Experience||Georgia|
The shrimping boats are late today; The dusk has caught them cold. Swift darkness gathers up the sun, And all the beckoning gold That guides them safely into port Is lost beneath the tide. Now the lean moon swings overhead, And Venus, salty-eyed. They will be late an hour or more, The fishermen, blaming dark's
Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from