Tim Carmichael

Joined March 2025

252 stories

Bio

I’m a firm believer life is messy, beautiful, and too short, which is why I write poems full of heart and humor. I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. My book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇

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

Achievements (18)

Stories (252)

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The Kettle
Water hits the cup Steam lifts, swirls, and disappears The cup has not moved
By Tim Carmichael22 days ago in Poets
The Door That Was Always Open
When a wave returns to its vast source, one might mourn it, or marvel that something so brief could carry so much of forever on its back.
By Tim Carmichael23 days ago in Poets
On Precision
What we owe each other is accuracy. Not kindness. Kindness is frequently a way of avoiding the difficulty of being correct.
By Tim Carmichael23 days ago in Poets
Morning Transit
Rain beads on mailbox a truck idles at the curb one envelope slips
By Tim Carmichael24 days ago in Poets
The Slug
a slug moves across the flat rock leaving a thin wet line behind it
By Tim Carmichael24 days ago in Poets
Still, We Come
My brother is a stranger to me until he is home again jaw first, then the way he stands against a wall deciding. 🌈 I have loved men
By Tim Carmichael25 days ago in Pride
The Drawing Room Tide
The tea service was laid out with the precision of a surgical tray. Mrs. Gable adjusted the silver tongs by a fraction of an inch, ensuring they were perfectly parallel to the edge of the mahogany table. Sunlight streamed through the bay window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and the thick, viscous pool of dark, brackish water that covered the entire floor of the drawing room to a depth of four inches.
By Tim Carmichael25 days ago in Fiction
River Crossing
Hoof in wet river a fly lifts, settles again grass bends in the wind
By Tim Carmichael25 days ago in Poets
The Moth
a moth on the wall opens both wings holds them there then folds them back shut
By Tim Carmichael26 days ago in Poets
Spring's Faithful Return. Top Story - March 2026.
Tell me, does the robin understand what she is singing about at dawn, that whole gorgeous insistence of song rising before the sun has fully committed
By Tim Carmichael26 days ago in Poets
The Digital Archive
I am holding a rectangular object made of glass and aluminum. It weighs exactly one hundred and seventy-four grams. * Inside this casing, there is a list of four hundred names.
By Tim Carmichael26 days ago in Poets
Ambient Noise
I am standing in a room filled with eighty people. The floor is concrete and the ceiling is high, which means the sound of every voice
By Tim Carmichael27 days ago in Poets