Well Hung Vineyard. For when you’re so well hung, you actually wine about it.
I’m not sure how well I’ll fit in with hippies. But if it’s one thing this world has taught me, it’s to always follow instructions when they are inscribed in colored chalk.
This is your daily reminder that the deadly January 6th attack on the United States Capitol absolutely meets the definitions of terrorism according to the F.B.I., The Patriot Act and the Oxford Essential Dictionary of the U.S. Military.
They respectively appear below:
Every time they put on a mask, they’re wearing a tacit admission that their president was wrong in dismissing coronavirus.
That’s why they won’t wear one.
Their slavish devotion to following Trump turns their mask into a scarlet letter.
Pride really is a deadly sin.
Roanoke, VA, August 2021.
Looking south past the corner of Elm Avenue and Jefferson Street, Roanoke, VA, August 2021.
I’m honored to share here today that Spillwords Press published my short poem, “Her Son, Her Daughter.” You can find it right here.
Thanks once again to Dagmara K. and the rest of the editorial staff at Spillwords Press!
I ran a version of this picture a number of years ago — and ran across it again. This one’s cropped so that you can better see the little fellas.
My cellphone camera is truly, categorically awful when it comes to shooting at night. Sorry, folks.
Campbell Avenue at Roanoke City Market.
Salem Avenue.
Jefferson Street.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 