May 22, 2026

Watched the last edition of Stephen Colbert last night. Farewell. 

Off in slow rain to Campus to the annual lunch meeting of the RFFA, Retired Faculty and Administration. I’ve dodged many such events, and now that I know what goes on, I’ll dodge the rest. Good seeing a few people I haven’t seen in a while; otherwise, three hours of life I won’t get back. Not bad, just remote from my interests. Lunch was excellent. I haven’t figured out exactly what the organization is for. Perhaps if I wanted continued influence over my old university I would understand better. Some want that very keenly indeed. Turns out that next year is UNCA’s Centennial, year. That is, apparently, a prime opportunity for fundraising. Mr M, “Director of Engagement,” handed me an envelope which contained testimonials from former students calling me their outstanding faculty memory. I didn’t remember any of them, which makes it sweeter, I suppose, that they remember me. 

May 21, 2026

Drought turns into days of grayish drizzle and full bird baths, which is fine by me. 

I may have overestimated the damage the bears did to the pond. It is in fact holding water. I took a net and ladled out as much vegetable debris as I could. I had to examine each netful for the flashing bodies of mosquito fish and gold fish and enormous bull tadpoles, to deliver them back into the water. All this was unmistakable sign of life. This morning as I threw some recycling into the bin, a bullfrog called from the margin, and I decided to let be for a time. Bears are a widely-publicized problem locally right now. Several have been euthanized in Black Mountain. People accuse human encroachment on traditional bear habitat, but I wonder if that’s the actual story. I lived on this street for 25 years before I ever saw a bear. My house stood for 95 years before bears tore out the basement windows. You’d think that would have happened way back, given their propensities, had there actually been bears to do it. I love the bears, but realize I limit my time sitting on the porch at night because of them, and keep a heavy bat by the backdoor in case something needs to be repulsed. 

ACLGMC rehearsal engaging. What makes something so lighthearted that was such a chore erewhile?  

Peace Frog

May 20, 2026

Still no rain, though a pittance is promised for tonight.

My bear videos are getting hundreds of views.

Peace Frog reading last night at Dimension of Books in Waynesville, on a genrtrifying street facing a mountain. Big handsome Doug opened the store a few months ago. He looks like a TV sports reporter, as I think he was for a while. We’re from the same part of Ohio, which I knew from his lack-of-accent accent. Used books, all dusty, some quite esoteric. Doug seems deeply happy, and this little store his dream. I hope all goes well for him forever. If I had known exactly what the event was, I would probably have refused, but I went and it is well. Ten or twelve people in a tiny, tiny rooms, sweating like stevedores. What an odd thing poetry is. Unlike in almost any other art form, amateurism is not only tolerated, but encouraged as, somehow, genuine. Amid that I was a white flame. They acclaimed me a great poet, and whether that is true or not, I changed the perspective of the room. One woman said that I was either a great poet or a great performer, and she didn’t know which. Imagine saying that to Mozart. Poets who are not good performers should not perform, but rely on their readers. My life has been poetry, yet even I roll my eyes when required to go to a reading, knowing how unlikely it is to be excellent. 

The breaking light revealed that the bears returned, and this time destroyed everything. They ripped a hole in the fabric of the pond and drained much of the water. They scooped out the water plants and left them torn on land. They broke my one remaining pear tree and toppled the lawn statuary that I had righted yesterday. This is the end of that joy. The pond is too much of a temptation to wild animals who have grown far too bold. I had it for ten years, and perhaps that is enough. But, sad. I think of the calling of frogs, the birds slaking their thirst, the occasional heron, the lilies like gems flowering in the shadows. 

 

 May 17, 2026

The shirt I wore to the ballet was last worn, according to the dry cleaning label, in 2012. The server at the Wortham café admired my outfit.

At dusk two bears entered my yard. One was enormous, clearly full grown, the other smaller but much too big to be this year’s cub. Neither had collars. They romped in the pond, got out of the pond and romped in the grass. You don’t expect bears that big to be that playful. This went on for a good half hour. I don’t know how much of the waterlilies they decimated. They overturned my cement swan, out of sheer devilment. I don’t know where they went, but I’m not going outside until dawn. I have to admit I was smiling the whole time they were here.  Happy creatures. One does recognize that, if they turned aggressive, animals that size would be unanswerable. 

Cinderella

May 16, 2026

Parked at First Baptist last night and made my way through Downtown After 5 festivities to the Wortham to see Ann’s Cinderella, to the music of Prokofiev. It was astoundingly good. I was caught up in the theater of it regardless of my reservations concerning classical ballet. Chit-chat with Tom and CoCo. Sweet night in my little town.  

May 15, 2026

Wearing my winter jacket indoors o n the 15th of May. Finished a rewrite of Ben and Angela, toward no conceivable end but my own satisfaction. 

 

 May 13, 2026

Hard gardening, centered on the bags of mulch I bought more than a year ago finally getting spread around. One day is right after a thousand days were wrong. 

Rabbit grazed within reach as I was weeding.