My latest piece for Cincinnati Magazine is about one of our favorite places, Rabbit Hash, Kentucky.  You can pick up a copy at your local bookstore or newsstand.  'Course, we'll have a link to it once it's posted on the Magazine's website at the end of the month.  In the meantime, we thought you'd enjoy revisiting a poem by Walleye Stevens, written upon the occasion of a mayoral election in the tiny town. 

Rabbit Hash first gained national attention when it's citizens elected a dog as their mayor and pretty soon every critter in town was running for office.  Click on the black bar (above) to hear us read the poem on our broadcast -- and follow along as you listen.

The Mayor of Rabbit Hash

Call the walker of big dogs,
The Labrador’s bid conjures Goofy’s ghost
To whip cornucopic candidates: a pig,
Other dogs, a donkey in such dress
As Republicans are used to wear.
Line the floor with last week’s newspapers.
Let fly the electoral slapdash.
The only mayor is the mayor of Rabbit Hash.

Take from the General Store,
Near the three Kleenex cozies, the leash
At which, emboldened,
                  he wagged his tail once or twice
And gather it so as to collar his neck.
If his padded feet are rude, they pause
To make dumb show, to sniff the tree,
To piddle-stream the Purple Ash.
The only mayor is the mayor of Rabbit Hash.

                                                 -- Walleye Stevens