Tim Carmichael

Joined March 2025

329 stories

Bio

I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon

https://a.co/d/537XqhW

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Stories (329)

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Instructions for Becoming a Ghost
First stop answering your name when called Let it be a reflection in empty rooms, a vision that once meant you. Practice forgetting the sway of your shadow.
By Tim Carmichael7 months ago in Poets
The Song of My Mother’s Cheek. Content Warning.
His hand rose in the air, without any pause and without mercy and hit her face, in a place where love once lived,
By Tim Carmichael7 months ago in Poets
Living on the Edge
Just as the world tilts forward, the path narrows to nothing but crushed stone and faith. My boots grip loose shale while the canyon opens
By Tim Carmichael7 months ago in Poets
The Idiot’s Guide to Vanishing
Start when someone asks you to fold a fitted sheet. You try. You wrestle it like a sweaty octopus. Then you give up and say a word
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
Unspoken Inventory
I never said You snore louder than a chainsaw in a haunted lumberyard And yes, it wakes the neighborhood dogs, the mailman
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
Appalachian Descent
Just as the world tilts forward, the asphalt gives way to something steeper than sleep, steeper than the hill I climbed to get here.
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
Things I Don't Say When I Read Your AI Poem
Oh wow, you wrote that? That’s... neat. It flows so smooth, like factory meat. The metaphors slap like a user guide, With all the heart of a Tesla ride.
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
The Oregon Dream and Other Secrets
I almost said it yesterday when you were struggling with the jar, how your concentration face makes me forget what I was worrying about.
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
The Narcissus in the Water (For Poppy's Prompt)
He found the stream one early morning where sunlight pooled beneath the trees and bent to drink but caught a face so beautiful he couldn't breathe
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
To Many Things I Meant to Say
I meant to say the wind doesn’t sing the same these days not since daddy died and left I meant to say I still glance out to the field come sundown
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
The Way the Earth Breathes
I woke before the sun, not for any reason just because the light slipped through the blinds. Outside, the trees were already busy,
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets
Weightless
Clouds drift not in a hurry not even with purpose just movement soft and slow like thoughts half-formed on a quiet afternoon
By Tim Carmichael8 months ago in Poets