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World Poetry Day is Once More Upon Us...
and I find myself turning to the first poet to speak to me – disdained by many for the apparent simpleness of his style, the direct speech and indirect implications were exactly what always drew me to him.
 
Of all his poems, though, this is the one I find myself thinking of, this year.
 
 
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”
 
- “Mending Wall” by Robert Frost
 
 

*taps mic*

reposting this from my Tumblr account

 

Since there seems to be some outraged confusion among Anons and Nonnys, let me clarify.

If you support the Trump/Pence/Bannon regime’s attempts to isolate, persecute, and otherwise remove basic civil and citizen’s rights from entire groups within our society, based on who they are rather than dealing with individual behavior on a case by case basis, yes I do think you’re behaving in a shitty and morally bankrupt manner, I find you personally distasteful, and I consider preventing you from carrying out your agenda(s) to be a moral obligation of a civilized nation.

And history’s got my back, on this one.

the cold eye
The last appearance of the least-spotted meerkat will be at the Kitsap B&N in Silverdale, WA TOMORROW (Saturday) at 2pm, where I will be doing my reading and signing Thang for THE COLD EYE.
 
After that, I dive back into my more reclusive writing phase, and getting anything signed will be far more difficult.
 
And yes, this is a B&N so you can probably have signed copies shipped to YOUR local B&N. You just have to ask (seriously, ask ‘em today).

 

Patreon News!
Whoops, looks like I’m going to owe my patrons an audio this month – we hit the “have Auntie Meerkat read each episode of the serial” bonus level of the Patreon!
 
(thankfully, we’ve just started the newest serial, so I should be able to catch up easily enough.)
 
 
  • - “Author’s notes” video updates, discussing each new episode and whatever else is on my alleged mind
 
  • - Monthly deleted excerpts from works that will never be seen elsewhere (warning: there may be spoilers!)
 
  • - Each complete serial you supported (in mobi or epub format), digitally “pawmarked” and numbered.
 
  • - An original flash fiction, every month.