title: Working the Dirt: An Anthology of Southern Poets
author:  Jennifer Horne 
description: From the seat of a tractor to the seat of a car driven in search of a peach stand, the poems gathered here deal with dirt, toil, memory, history, and bliss. Horne carefully selected and sequenced the more than 100 poems in this collection within a thematic structure, and is clearly blown away by the individuality of the voices and poetic talents. Determined to present the South from many viewpoints, all of which reveal its roughness, beauty, and agrarian tradition, she has included time-honored poets such as Randall Jarrell and Wendell Barry, contemporary poets such as Naomi Shihab Nye and Ellen Bryant Voigt, and such lesser-known poets as Sallie Nixon and Coppie Green. The book's strongest section is titled "Strong Women," wherein such poems as Richard Jackson's "Morning Glory" absolutely shine with emotion, perception, and transformation. <i>Working the Dirt</i> is an apt title for an anthology that celebrates the soil and richly sings the songs of numerous southern poets. <i>Janet St. John</i><br /><i>Copyright  American Library Association. All rights reserved</i>
zlib_text: DOWN & DIRTY #1
  A Shameless Southern Nights Novel
  
  J.H. CROIX
  ALI PARKER
  
  CONTENTS
  1.
  Jeremy
  2.
  Marie
  3.
  Jeremy
  4.
  Marie
  5.
  Jeremy
  6.
  Marie
  7.
  Jeremy
  8.
  Marie
  9.
  Jeremy
  10. Marie
  11. Jeremy
  12. Marie
  13. Jeremy
  14. Marie
  15. Jeremy
  16. Marie
  17. Jeremy
  18. Marie
  19. Jeremy
  20. Marie
  21. Jeremy
  22. Marie
  23. Jeremy
  24. Marie
  25. Jeremy
  Sneak Peek: Down & Dirty #2
  Acknowledgments
  About the Author
  About the Author
  
  Chapter One
  
  JEREMY
  Gravel crunched under my feet and a lone black bird cried overhead. The sky was an uninterrupted
  blue, even the clouds were avoiding this place. There were a few other people making this
  depressing trek with me, but no one spoke. Neither did I. Each of us was here for our own reasons,
  but I’d bet money no one wanted to be here.
  We only had this place in common.
  A place that smelled vaguely of stale sweat and the long forgotten alibis of those who’d likely
  never had real ones to start with. It just so happened to also house a section of humanity that the rest