Author, Writer, Poet
Grateful to Doubly Mad, a beautiful literature and art journal in upstate New York, for printing my short story, “Celebration.” After a night of drinking Curt learns Artie lost a wad of money and maybe his friendship along with it.
https://doublymad.org/Doubly-Mad-Journal
Here are the first two pages:
No sunrise this morning, just a dirty yellow glow, blood orange at the edges. Perpetual smoky twilight. Photos in the news hardly convey the ominous colors and the absence of sun.
Today is our second day at home in Northern California after our four-week road trip to Kansas, which included ten days of driving and one day on United Airlines. I always enjoy traveling, and despite the smoke I’m glad to be back.
Walking our dog Pearl this morning (carefully in the dimness), I saw my first Biden-Harris sign after all the Trump flags in Kansas and rural Colorado and Utah. We even spied a Trump banner flying from the back of a Werner semi on the interstate.
Michael Moore is right; Trump motivates his base. Anyone concerned about overt racism, rising fascism, immigration rights, the environment, free speech (the real free speech), minority rule, and economic equality should be worried. Stay healthy and don’t forget to vote.
The yellow twilight flashes its warning.
Shout out to my son for his brilliant question and to Rust + Moth for publishing my poem!
Memories of my brother-in-law Doug along with images of the Cuyahoga River, which has since been restored, and wildfires that continue to threaten and destroy. Grateful to Trouvaille Review for publishing.
https://www.trouvaillereview.org/home/ashes-on-water-by-terry-tierney
Recalling the odd yellow clouds and rain in Nevada earlier on our road trip, this storm is equally unexpected and much scarier.
North of Flagstaff on Highway 89 we see signs of water shortage—no campfires allowed, no charcoal. Ominous clouds cling to mountain peaks, but we’re driving at a lower elevation across the high desert listening to The Beatles.
As soon as we hear the riffs for “Here Comes the Sun,” the rain spits then gushes. White knuckling the steering wheel, I pull off the road and park three times. I creep out between cells only to coast off again.
Having experienced many whiteouts from snow, this was my first water-out, and I hope my last. Fortunately the cars on the two-lane highway drive slowly and many stop on the shoulder near us. No accidents as far as we know.
Wish we could drag the rain home to California to help quench the horrible fires.