Martin Cavannagh of Reedsy has sent me a link to a thorough and crystal clear post on writing memoirs. What he had in mind is probably not this. The Day the Dog Ate Popcorn excerpt by Marian Allen Now, we raised the chickens in a…

This is a July poem, but so what? It’s just barely August, so … close enough for folk music. HARBINGER by Marian Allen The locust trees are turning and it’s only July. Gold-brown, red-brown, brown, they shock the eye, dead in the green; as out…

Sweetie Pie Turner, here, MomGoth’s mother’s cat. Tipper is in trouble for scratching the couches — repeatedly and deliberately — but I was scheduled to post today, anyway. The other day, when MomGoth came up to take care of Mom in the morning, she couldn’t…