French drip coffee, buttered toast with fresh figs smashed on top, and a sprinkle of sugar. My eye shades roll open for my New Orleans breakfast. I was born in Louisiana just like every single one of my relatives. The few who left came back. I’m a Creole poet, lover of Mardi Gras, thunder storms, and Gulf shrimp, even though I’m allergic to them. I’m so hardcore I just takes a Benadryl then eat them anyway.Read more
The Dead Mule School
Online since 1996. "No good Southern fiction, poetry, essays, cornbread, coon mule jumping competition, swamp dance or pig pickin' is complete without a dead mule..."