William Kelley Woolfitt is the author of short stories, poems, and essays that have appeared or are forthcoming in Shenandoah, Cincinnati Review, Ninth Letter, Los Angeles Review, Hayden Ferry's Review, Sycamore Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Shadowbox, The Way of St. Francis, and elsewhere. Poems from his completed book-length sequence, Words for Flesh: a Spiritual Autobiography of Charles de Foucauld, have been published in Christianity and Literature, Salamander, Rhino, Pilgrimage, and Nimrod.
He has worked as a summer camp counselor, bookseller, ballpark peanuts vendor, and teacher of computer literacy to senior citizens. He lives in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, with his wife, and studies American literature at Pennsylvania State University. He completed his MFA in Creative Writing at Penn State and his MA at Hollins University. He goes walking on the Appalachian Trail or at his grandparents' farm (near Kasson, West Virginia) whenever he can.
"Dead Air" in Joyland
It wasn't supposed to happen that way. My son Zack was a junior counselor, not even sixteen till August. The camp hired him at such a young age only because he had completed lifeguard training....
"Orange Crush" in The Reprint
We rent a furnished room now. Here's our potluck inheritance: gangly lamps with corduroy shades. Curtains of musty tweed. Trampled shag carpet. Fuzzy couch marked with cigarette burns, the impression of your body, the tension of nights in separate rooms when you sulk and I quiver like a piano wire....
"Louise Nevelson Resurrects the City's Refuse to Create the Exhibit Moon Garden + One" in Cerise Press
Found wood teems on all floors of her brownstone / on Thirtieth, chokes halls and fire escapes, / spills from her tub, festoons her dreams with royal / personages tossing hoops and mallets / in a garden of prickly shrubs....
"Simon Rodia Builds the East Tower of Nuestro Pueblo to Honor His Killed in a Mine Explosion" in Switched-on Gutenberg
At night, he dreams the props buckle again; / mules keen, the earth murmurs, gives, and enfolds, / crushes his brother like an olive pit, / and he must dig free, limp out from the mouth / of the mine, find light, blow ash from his hands....
Banner Source: Flickr, Many Trees (Berkeley Springs, West Virginia 2009)