Pokeberries, Ruth Stone

Pokeberries Ruth Stone I started out in the Virginia mountains with my grandma’s pansy bed and my Aunt Maud’s dandelion wine. We lived on greens and back-fat and biscuits. My Aunt Maud scrubbed right through the linoleum. My daddy was a Northerner who played drums and chewed tobacco and gambled. He married my mama on […]

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