New Kieran Shea at BEAT to a PULP

Kieran Shea is always a joy to publish because of his unique perspectives and professionalism. His latest  "The Way Of Our Now" is available to read at the BEAT to a PULP webzine.

Western Fictioneers: Mrs. Sundance (1974)

Western Fictioneers: Mrs. Sundance (1974): Etta Place holds a fascination in American folklore for good reasons: she was the girlfriend of the Sundance Kid (Harry Longabaugh) and rode...

Sandpiper

Some good news around here that I could definitely use. My 14th poem, "Sandpiper," will be published by Live Nude Poems in the near future. Thanks to exceptional editors Rusty Barnes and Heather Sullivan for having me back. My last poem to appear on their site was "The Inconsiderate."

272,479

At one point this afternoon, the deaths from COVID were counting at 272,479. 

At one point this afternoon, my Aunt Pat died. 

The number, as I write this now in the evening, has jumped to 273,170

Deaths so far today, 2,528 

I'm devastated. I'm angry. 

I look to a favorite poet for solace, when Maya Angelou had said: "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." 

Aunt Pat will be remembered for making others feel joy and warmth, to feel special and always welcome. She had a beauty inside and out that reflected onto those around her. One thing she once said has stuck with me for many, many years now, when a family visit came to end and we were parting ways for another extended period of time, she threw a hand back with flourish and dramatically, but gracefully, said, "Until we meet again." Yes, Aunt Pat, bless you, and 'Until we meet again.' Rest in peace.

The Church at Auvers (1890) by Vincent van Gogh

The Church at Auvers, an 1890 oil painting by Vincent van Gogh. In a letter to his sister he revealed some of his creative process:

I have a larger picture of the village church — an effect in which the building appears to be violet-hued against a sky of simple deep blue colour, pure cobalt; the stained-glass windows appear as ultramarine blotches, the roof is violet and partly orange. In the foreground some green plants in bloom, and sand with the pink flow of sunshine in it. And once again it is nearly the same thing as the studies I did in Nuenen of the old tower and the cemetery, only it is probably that now the colour is more expressive, more sumptuous.

Trivia: And Doctor Who aficandoes are well aware what lurks behind those stained-glass windows.

Westerns, Poems, Hope

I'm doing a post for the Western Fictioneers blog on an old televison film about what happened to Ms. Etta Place, a Western enigma. That'll be coming up in a couple of weeks. Until then, I believe I haven't shared here the link to my last WF write up on Scott D. Parker's Empty Coffins novel. In the review, I also tease an upcoming project both Scott and I are working on (hint: Cash Laramie, Gideon Miles meet up with Calvin Carter).

Also, a couple poems of mine have been published at Punk Noir Magazine. These make a complete baker's dozen of my verse to be published over the last two years. Here are links to some of the others I'm partial to: 

Hugh Chaffin

The Long Return 

The Killing of Jamal Khashoggi 

The Inconsiderate 

Dead Burying the Dead

More importantly, thank you to all who've reached out to me about my Aunt Pat. She was recently taken off the ventilator and transferred to a rehab where they will try to wean her off the oxygen. She's not out of the woods yet but there's hope on the horizon.

My Aunt Pat

Everyone still washing hands, social distancing, and wearing a mask? Yeah, me too. The reality of COVID-19 has struck close to my family, again, with my Aunt Pat in the hospital with the virus and pneumonia. I have to tell you that my anger swells as I see so many people who continue to disregard preacautions that would help to stop the spread of this infectious disease because of their ignorant belief that wearing a mask is a political statement, or they have the idiotic notion this is no worse than the flu. Infuriating. But back to my Aunt Pat, if you have some extra room in your prayers or good vibes, please send them her way. She's a wonderful, caring person with a special warmth, flair, and grace. She and my mother were born in Guyana and came to the US at different times in their lives to raise their families, and they both showed a great love for this country.