Saturday, March 23, 2024

Old Clay: Puck in Repose

 


Before the glazing.

Not sure of the year.

I did catch the trickster sleeping.


Thursday, March 21, 2024

Friday, March 15, 2024

Hi Dad: Good Memory

 


1996, I think.

Seaside. After a stormy and wet charter fishing trip out on Monterey Bay.

Dad and I were skunked in ever-drenching conditions, and Dad was always prone to seasickness.

Fish courtesy of a kind cousin.

Still counts.


Thursday, March 14, 2024

Alter-Ego(s)

 


Singular or plural?

Perhaps one more than another?

From left to right:

Tyr of the AEsir;

Robin Hood (or Chaucer's knight's-yeoman);

and Unferth Blatthersbane.

Just saying.



Bran Mak Morn, Fafhrd, and the Gray Mouser: Rereading Around

 


I have been rereading these stories since 1973 or so.

Friday, March 8, 2024

Happy Birthday, John McPhee

 


Essay-topics for The Control of Nature.

Saturday, March 2, 2024

No Story Without Lines: A Poem

THERE IS NO STORY WITHOUT LINES


The lines on your face.

The lines on your hand.

The lines in the sky.

The lines in the sand.


The lines you wished you'd said.

The lines you wish you hadn't.


The lines that link

The lines that block

The ink that stains

The keys unlock

The lyrics to the tune

That refuses to stop


The lines you plow

The seeds you plant

The times you harvest

And the times you can't


No stories without lines.

No lines without time.

Too much, too little -- time.

So many many lines.


So many lines you waited in

To reach this place, this time, this state:

This fractured fissure where --

Against fault, against fail --

You can begin to tell the tale.


-- Matt Duckworth