Each chapter of Following the Equator begins with a quote from Pudd’nhead Wilson (Distraction/Digression: One of the poets tells self the Golden State Warriors are playing tonight. Apparently, since the Calgary Flames have been eliminated, it is now OK to ask at the MacLab for the giant screens to show basketball)

Anyhoo, where was self?

Oh yes, Following the Equator, Chapter V.

The quote that begins the chapter is this:

Noise proves nothing. Often a hen who has merely laid an egg cackles as if she had laid an asteroid.

Mark Twain! Self laughed so hard when she got to the very last word of that sentence. An asteroid! A hen laying an asteroid!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Sentence & Poem of the Day (Trigger Warning: Dark Subject Matter)

“He laughed like a serial killer, but that was my best friend for you.”

Self realizes this is rather an odd choice of sentence for Mother’s Day, but it’s gold. Pure gold. And it’s from fan fiction.

The poetry excerpt is by Kevin Flynn, from his poem “Thoughts on Easter While Digging a Grave,” (Aaaargh, why? Self realizes this title is almost as dark as the sentence above) from Bluestem‘s Spring 2015 issue:

Once there were so many buffalo rumbling
on the Great Plains, they darkened the landscape
like a storm, so many that trains full of men,
armed with carbines, would fly through the West
shooting the animals dead, stopping only long
enough to load up the skins, boxcar after boxcar
of bloody fun, leaving behind pyramids of skulls
at every station.

Fully loaded, lovely, oblivious
and muscular, three neighbor boys, with skull
plates thin as a dime, and the Southern sun settled
hissing in the bog behind their eyes, have tacked
sixteen new raccoon skins to their learning barn
wall this Spring. At 4 am, with cats afuzz in the
walls, they tree a young coon one hundred feet
from our bedroom window, and shake him out
to the dogs.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.


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