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Larry D. Thomas



has a split personality.


East, it could pass

for Georgia, ‘bama,

Mississippi or Louisiana,

lazing in the shadows

of loblolly pines,

fattening its denizens

on grits, greens, red-eye

gravy and skillet cornbread.


West, cinched tight

with the belt of the Bible,

its cattle far outnumber its

loners smug in oversized

pickups, reaching for pistols.



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