A gathering of the family today without a death. A rare occurrence. Normally it is a loss that pulls our shortly-flung ranks back to a home base. Not today. Just hot dogs and hamburgers and my-how-you’ve-grown or my-how-you’ve-lost. There is always more exclamation at the loss. That is what [...]
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Damn it. I had to find out he’d died through Facebook. Not that I wanted a direct line, but you hate to hear about death that way, a casual note from people who knew him personally, especially when he loomed pretty large in your writing life. Here’s one remembrance. As that linked remembrance says, you can [...] The dawn was frosty on Birmingham’s south side. It was a late spring. These were the days that would make or break me, days of decision, days of choosing between life and an ignominious early death. I had made the hardest choice. I had chosen life, and, oh, baby, what a drag. That’s what [...] Busy times here. I wish I could say I’m having fun, but I’m not. Look for new content very soon, though. In the meantime, I ran across this poem that hits me where I live in its last few phrases, though the water where I grew up was hard, turned blue jeans green and whites [...] She’s got good days and bad days. Sometimes the days pass right quick-like, and she’ll go for hours, pushing it down and forgetting. But eventually the thoughts slip back in, centipede-like, through a crack in her concentration. Then that bright pain hits inside her head, lighting it up like a lava lamp, and she has to [...] Frank Stanford is a poet I came to late in my life–like most of the poets I’m reading now–as I was casting around for something new to inspire me. I found first the collection of his work at the Alsop Review, then bought one of the two books I could find in print. Loved it, [...] You may have noticed some kinks as we moved to http://www.friedchickenandcoffee.com. Sorry about that. Look for regular coverage to come soon. “You’ll kill a plant if you touch it when you’re bleeding,” she told me. “Leaves will shrivel, fruit drop from the vine. Not just any blood. Mind me, I’m talking the monthlies.” Mama raised me up with superstition. In the way flowers strain to the sun, I grew in her direction of suspicion [...] Justin suggested in comments I talk a little bit about payment terms, as in why I sent certain books to the people I publish here, which seems like a good idea, as I’ve now finished packaging them for mailing tomorrow. Some submitters I’ve known quite well for years, others I know only by online association, [...] A sad day. R.I.P., Snowman. Around the time of Smokey –linked as if you don’t know it–seen below in the video accompanied by Jerry Reed’s “East Bound and Down,” like everyone else in the country, the Barnes family was into trucker lingo and Citizen’s Band radio. While Mom and Dad hung out with Uncle Walt (not my uncle) [...] |
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