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The Revelator’s Namesake

The Revelator’s Namesake _______________ Samantha Lynn Cole Revelations, three times repeated. It isn’t much, but here are the worldly things that I know best, in my foolishness: A maple leaf will always turn, a woman from the country is always best, and a biscuit, made right, is a gift of God. Give me a slice of fat back every morning, a tiring ache for sleep at night, these are the things that keep me living. These things, even more so than the booze, even more so than any loving. I prefer a good rie t fl o a good church service, and a good dog over good weather, any day. When I go to the mill every morning, to rip up creation with whirring teeth, sawdust in my mouth, beard, and blinding my eyes, these are the things I dwell on, watching the blade whine through timber, years separated in moments. These things and Revelations. I hear that word in the clink of the chain, that will, no doubt, be the sound I will hear right before I pass. Revelations, three times, the moment of unveiling, the great day of reward, when all those who have helped to fill my pores with http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

The Revelator’s Namesake

Appalachian Review , Volume 41 (3) – Sep 5, 2013

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081

Abstract

_______________ Samantha Lynn Cole Revelations, three times repeated. It isn’t much, but here are the worldly things that I know best, in my foolishness: A maple leaf will always turn, a woman from the country is always best, and a biscuit, made right, is a gift of God. Give me a slice of fat back every morning, a tiring ache for sleep at night, these are the things that keep me living. These things, even more so than the booze, even more so than any loving. I prefer a good rie t fl o a good church service, and a good dog over good weather, any day. When I go to the mill every morning, to rip up creation with whirring teeth, sawdust in my mouth, beard, and blinding my eyes, these are the things I dwell on, watching the blade whine through timber, years separated in moments. These things and Revelations. I hear that word in the clink of the chain, that will, no doubt, be the sound I will hear right before I pass. Revelations, three times, the moment of unveiling, the great day of reward, when all those who have helped to fill my pores with

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Sep 5, 2013

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