Some folktale I'm keeping alive while the curtain falls
My poem "A Long Time Afterward" has been accepted by Nightmare Magazine. It is a ghost poem whose subject was only ever alive on film: Johnny Ryan, played stone cold and queer to the bone by Wendell Corey in the deliriously Technicolor noir Desert Fury (1947). He haunts the end of the film and kept on haunting me past it. The day it was written, I read it for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiantfracture's birthday.
Today being my father's birthday actual,spatch and I walked around the reservoir before dinner.
There were numerous ducks and even some geese out on the water, but this older cygnet was the only visible swan. Not pictured: several approaches which were just swan butt.
My grandparents' house had a two-story pussy willow when my brother and I were growing up. The pussy willow in my parents' yard was grown from a cutting of it. This one was growing near the edge of the habitat garden where the gravel all washed down the spillway the first year it was built.
The camera had trouble with the rain-light, rendering my attempt to catch the thicketing of catkins against the sky even more experimentally than intended.
Backed by water. It had not yet begun to rain in earnest.
Of the numerous ducks, these dapper little sea ducks were the hardest to photograph, as they were so fast-moving that they tended to slide out of shot like planets down the plane of the ecliptic.
Pictured by Rob, this triple-headed stump looked like something mythological.
He caught the elegant curve of the rain-high brook.
As we made it back in the now steady rain, I stopped for the blue-shift glow in the grass.
I did not sleep at all last night due to massive allergies and spent most of my morning spot-cleaning and doing laundry while wheezing badly, but there were good things in the day.
radiantfracture's birthday.Today being my father's birthday actual,
spatch and I walked around the reservoir before dinner.
There were numerous ducks and even some geese out on the water, but this older cygnet was the only visible swan. Not pictured: several approaches which were just swan butt.
My grandparents' house had a two-story pussy willow when my brother and I were growing up. The pussy willow in my parents' yard was grown from a cutting of it. This one was growing near the edge of the habitat garden where the gravel all washed down the spillway the first year it was built.
The camera had trouble with the rain-light, rendering my attempt to catch the thicketing of catkins against the sky even more experimentally than intended.
Backed by water. It had not yet begun to rain in earnest.
Of the numerous ducks, these dapper little sea ducks were the hardest to photograph, as they were so fast-moving that they tended to slide out of shot like planets down the plane of the ecliptic.
Pictured by Rob, this triple-headed stump looked like something mythological.
He caught the elegant curve of the rain-high brook.
As we made it back in the now steady rain, I stopped for the blue-shift glow in the grass.
I did not sleep at all last night due to massive allergies and spent most of my morning spot-cleaning and doing laundry while wheezing badly, but there were good things in the day.
no subject
(Buffleheads always look to me like the Chanel blazers of ducks)
no subject
I took them for buffleheads regardless of Weird Duck Season. Maybe they just live here now.