“Watoga 2021” by James Cochran

Craigslist Ad:
I have lost my mojo (Orma)
"Lost my mojo need someone who can help me find it"

Somewhere between Anhedonia and Ataraxy
we drive east on the turnpike in torrential
downpour, passing old man in rusted sedan
with driver's window down completely.

Is it broken, or is he just looking to feel something?

Still raining in Rainelle, West Virginia,
then we outrun the storm passing
Sam Black Church, town named
after church named after
19th century Methodist preacher.

Miles and hours pass by,
rain slows to a drizzle,
we turn north on 219
past signs reading:
"Trump 2024"
"Jesus Saved Me!"
and $1.00 Hot Dog!"

past Pleasant Green M.E.
old white church where
former slaves lie buried
in a graveyard the forest
is busy reclaiming.

On the fence of a small pasture,
sign in neat letters declares
"My Name is Rocket"
and a small white pony,
totem of equanimity
grazes on wet grass
looking unperturbed
by the sheer velocity
with which he hurtles
through space.

From the 2022 chapbook “My CO(r)VID Years” by James Cochran

James Cochran is a proudly Appalachian writer, transplanted from the soil of Southeastern Ohio to the hilly streets of Charleston, West Virginia. He embraces the practice of mindfulness through writing, and writing through mindfulness, and enjoys listening to the neighbor’s wind chimes.

BLOG: creepybabydolls.wordpress.com
NEWSLETTER: oakcrowsings.substack.com


POETICS: 3 Poems by James Cochran: July 1, 2022: ‘She says Jesus / has spoken to her, told her not to drink coffee / or Redbull, that black tea is okay. / I feel jealous of such direct communication / with a higher power, then wonder if I would / stop drinking coffee if Jesus told me to …’

READINGS: Three from “Corona Time Capsule”: September 10, 2021: ‘Feed Them on Peaches,’ ‘Grass Fire,’ and ‘¡Ya Basta!’ — three excerpts of poetry and prose from poet James Cochran’s forthcoming book “Corona Time Capsule.”

POEM: “Haymaking”: February 20, 2021: We cut, rake, and bale / till the sun goes down and the dew settles on the fields, / then start again next morning once the dew burns off …

Leave a Reply