He was wobble-running aimlessly in the open road; I pointed him out to an oncoming pickup truck. The driver slowed and moved around him, because my Roanoke neighbors are awesome.
Granted, what I did required the sheer minimum of effort that a human being can exert to help an animal. But my victories have numbered pretty few lately, so I’m taking pride in it.
So there were six deer in my yard this morning! A mama, a papa, and four little ones (though they were well on their way to becoming adults.) One of them even pooped there, which is all animals’ universal way of showing that they love you.
I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this sextuplet before too.
I’m going through this weird, New Age phase in which I’ll sit outside in the morning and just STOP. NO laptop. NO phone. Not even a notebook to write in.
Sounds barbaric, I know. I’m a little surprised with MYSELF, to be honest.
You heard it here first.
She is already a superior poet to me — with a tiny fraction of the time and effort. (Don’t ya just hate the people who have inordinately high aptitudes? Damned wunderkind.)
It is a good thing that I love her so madly; otherwise, I’d be jealous.
My Alumbud Deanna Hicks posted this to Facebook, and she gave me permission to share it. 🙂 Thanks Dee!
This would have been the year before the late Dr. Chris Kilmartin joined the faculty.
I had all of these professors except Dr.’s Corcoran and MacEwen.
(Still funny, though. Ya gotta gimme that.)
The latest is that the ball joint in my right hip feels like cocaine-crazed alpine marmots are biting and clawing at it. (They’re vicious little animals, by the way — never show ’em your back.)
It sucks getting old. (Though, as my father used to say, “it beats the alternative.”)
The Piker Press today published my poem, “Orchard, Girl and Frost.” 🙂
As always, I’m grateful to Managing Editor Sand Pilarski for founding this wonderful creative community!
My amazing friend Jaine Sirieys performed a wonderful reading of my poem “Blue.” She has a beautiful voice and a lovely British accent. I’m so honored that she took the time to so capably interpret something that I authored. 🙂 ❤
Retail wasn’t an option. I’m pre-owned.
I’ve tried for many years to identify the two horror comics below. They were among the earliest scary stories I ever read. (Comics really are a great stepping stone to more advanced reading, people.) God bless the Internet.
It was waaaaaaay back in … 1980 or 1981. My family had taken a vacation to Nashville, Tennessee, and that was one LONG car ride. Both of my parents were unwaveringly cool about encouraging me to read, so they always picked me up something good when there was reading material available on the journey.
I’m pretty sure I was a second-grader at the time? (This is nearly a half century ago, folks, so the details may be fuzzy.) But the two stories you see represented below knocked my socks off. Unless I am mistaken, they appeared in Charlton Comics’ “Haunted,” #12 and #17, respectively.
The first (as you can probably tell) was about a little boy who finds a monster egg at the beach — and then brings it home to incubate it secretly in the basement. (Things get predictably sea-monstery.)
The second comic I am a little less certain of … the story I remember had a female protagonist who visited a mansion owned by a villain. She was consigned to a sprawling garden on the grounds that sprouted demonic vines that had skulls for faces. Our heroine somehow prevailed, and even managed to claim the villain’s mansion. (I guess he left the deed lying around in the open.) The story ended by explaining how she paved over the hellish garden with concrete. The concrete cracked every year, presenting the demon vines with possible escape — so she assiduously had it repaved every year. That ending really gave me the creeps.
One thing still puzzles me … these comics were originally published in 1973 and 1974. Would a tourist trap or local drug store really be selling back issues of a horror comic from six to eight years prior?
And any comics historians out there see that I’ve gotten any of the above details wrong, please just shoot me a note or leave a comment. I’d love to learn more. 🙂
An elderly W. H. Auden once joked that his face looked like “a wedding cake that had been left out in the rain.”
Well, I’m hopefully not there quite yet, But, still … look at those crow’s feet!
