S. Preston Duncan
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sprestonduncan.bsky.social
S. Preston Duncan
@sprestonduncan.bsky.social
1.5K followers 3.4K following 1.8K posts
Writer of #poetry and occasionally other things. Author of Blood Alluvium (Parlyaree Press).
Leathercrafter.
INELDA-trained death doula.
Richmond, Virginia. #RVA
sprestonduncan.com
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sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I'm learning Gaeilge.

I'm sorry.
Picture of a pink pony with a disco ball and the words "Chapaillíní Roan"
November 11, 2025 at 11:32 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
Of all the destinations on our mad whirlwind of a honeymoon, I was least excited about Rome.

So of course I fell in love with it.

Jazz singers on boat bars, ancient architecture, plant kiosks by the Spanish Steps, delicious food. There's just a bit of magic there.
The view of an old building from my hotel window Plaza at night near the Spanish Steps featuring a kiosk selling plants and seeds View of a jazz club on a boat from the top balcony Ancient Roman architecture inside a museum. Photographed through the window
November 10, 2025 at 7:07 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I've been thinking about this email from Manchán Magan a lot today. Validation is hard to come by, I guess.

I wasn't expecting him to actually read my book, much less respond. Sure wish I'd had a chance to meet him.

(redacted to avoid insulting anyone)
Hi Seán, Thank you for your email. I must admit I'm not a great fan of poetry. Yours, on the other hand, is excellent. There's such power and vim to your words. It was a pleasure to read through the poems. Manchán -- Manchán
November 10, 2025 at 5:58 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
My satchel
Handmade leather satchel with pull-up waxed brown leather and black straps
November 9, 2025 at 12:36 AM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I took this picture one year ago today. And tonight, this painting pops up on my feed. Feels like a sign.

Take me back to Tuscany please.
Tuscan countryside near Montecucco
November 8, 2025 at 10:59 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I was there one year ago today. You captured it perfectly
Tuscan countryside in Montecucco
November 8, 2025 at 10:55 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
Case in point: I hand stitched this, but I used a hollow punch and a heavy waxed ritza tiger thread
The top of a leather bag showing contrast stitching
November 8, 2025 at 10:36 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I was optimistically intrigued when I received an Etsy notification stating that knit balaclavas were trending.

This is not what I was hoping for.
A screenshot of Etsy showing knitted hoods marketed as balaclavas.
November 8, 2025 at 6:57 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
A year ago late last night we arrived at Terra Della Sidhe, a somewhat remote olive and walnut grove in Castel del Piano near Montalcino. There we were received by Luisa, who is one of those instant favorite people. She taught us her fire building technique and, exhausted, I sat by it and wrote this
Panic Attacks at Dawn All of Europe is grieving. An artificial sun rises in the West and they see it is a nation of torches wearing the mask of dawn. In Italy a woman weeps into her olive trees. Her face is a volcano that flows with oil. By the stove she says once this was sacred and we anointed our warriors and priests with the year's fallen fruit. Now it is the labor of machines and I have not even a bottle left to give. Now you will return to the sun empty-handed. In Paris the cafés are still. Only the light remembers music. It rains more, rain digs beds into the mountains for clouds of mosquitoes that know the shape of America, that fly like a flag of war over the continent. Every land is a country invaded; their colors run into a sea that drowns the anthem of the season. Drowsy waves with their drowsy melodies quieting upon the shore. Farmers with baskets of stone march hungrily into the morning. The towns are full of dust merchants offering their throats to the sky which is a blue bomb waiting to form the names of the fallen, for the new sun to press its red button into the wound of the world. A dimly lit verdant path to a house in rural Tuscany A cozy interior of a historic house in rural Tuscany
November 7, 2025 at 4:04 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
On this day one year ago, we woke up in Venice to The News. I didn't know I was capable of having a panic attack in Venice. I was. I did.

We drank two cappuccinos and headed to the train station, rode down to Florence, then rented a car and drove deep into Montecucco.
A vast bridge in Venice on a sunny day A large sunny canal in Venice lined with old buildings A gondolier in a narrow canal in Venice Q long winding canal in Venice with old stone buildings
November 6, 2025 at 8:36 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I still have my Four Seasons Total Landscaping: Make America Rake Again tee shirt.

I laughed for actual weeks about this. Just randomly burst out laughing. It remains the funniest thing I have ever seen. Ever.
Post on Threads saying "happy 5th anniversary to the funniest thing that's happened in the history of ever" and shows an image of the Guliani/Trump presser at Four Seasons Total Landscaping
November 6, 2025 at 8:30 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I am of mixed heritage. Half of which is Jewish. I am a lifelong leftist.

I find the Left's refusal to internally police antisemitism alarming and infuriating.

I find the Jewish establishment's refusal to acknowledge and denounce the genocide in Gaza to be unforgivably abhorrent.
An email from Tikvah claiming the election of Mamdani amounts to the "liberal betrayal of the Jews"
November 6, 2025 at 2:05 AM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
This is only going to appeal to a fairly narrow niche — specifically elder millennials with young kids... but...

Y'all. Oshkosh did a limited reissue of their 1980s baby clothes.
Blue hickory stripe Oshkosh overalls with red cuffs and the red vintage Oshkosh B'gosh logo
November 5, 2025 at 11:56 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
Selfie with I Voted sticker and middle finger
November 4, 2025 at 6:40 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
I've got a large steer skull on my wall and several smaller ones around the house. They're not seasonal.
Burnt orange living room wall with several paintings and large cow skull
November 4, 2025 at 2:09 AM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
A few years ago I met an Old One at an ancient site. It took me awhile to figure out her name. I spent the next several months reading all I could about her. There was some information online. Not a ton.

Her name is everywhere now. I believe this is presence, not trend. They're coming back.
Cartography of Winter After the old woman built the mountains to fit her fingers, her hands became the storms that hide above them through the growing time. With them she struck her staff into the stone where her own reflection hardened at the sun, and the earth deepened, and the floods came. Half of the mountains rode into the dark heat of the west. Swamps formed at their feet. Jungles climbed their slopes, teeming with a million battles of rising blood. The first people to arrive spoke the language of the forest. They painted each war with the stars that escaped the canopy. Sang up the sap of every ancient tree that held the memory of the land to the heavens and called down the storms that shaped them. On the other side she buried her plaids in the ocean and laid down her basket of stones. Weary of the tremoring earth she rested in the valley of her bones, and there came to her a swift dream from which all the grasses and oaks grew upon the island of her breath. The beak that smooths the stone wearing a trough through centuries of sleep, the caves full of music from a timeless world. The people carrying their harvest to the circle of her eye that waits to open on the moonless veil between waking and every story, every air, every family—to this day are born from her tongue that turns from flesh to stone to light and even in sleep has never stopped speaking. Poem from White Stag anthology #bloodlore and full length solo collection Blood Alluvium from Parlyaree Press
November 3, 2025 at 6:36 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
A year ago today, I stepped off a train in Paris. It was my first time in the city and, swept up in the pulse of the place, we wandered late at night from Marais to Montmartre just to catch a show and thimble of libation at Cabaret Au Lapin Agile. Worth every step and the hours we overslept
November 2, 2025 at 4:48 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
This year we handed out candy at our own home with our 12 week old son.

Last year we drove from the Highlands to Edinburgh for the Samhuinn Fire Festival. Ate at The Witchery. Stayed in The Prestonfield.

So, just a bit different
November 1, 2025 at 2:14 AM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
Scared the "beejesus" out of my neighbor as she was leaving her house (I was just standing here). Then a little girl half bolted when I smiled because she thought I was a fake skeleton. So, first Halloween candy distro at the new house: successful.
A man wearing white makeup with black eyes in a richly patterned dinner jacket and a leather top hat with moon carvings.
October 31, 2025 at 11:32 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
Happy Halloween eve y'all.
Close up picture of light coming through a cinnamon broom against a burnt orange colored wall
October 30, 2025 at 11:34 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
On this day last year we drove the Great Glen, looped through the indescribable primal majesty that is Glencoe, and ended the day in Oban. Which happens to be the one Scottish town we visited in which I could actually see myself living pretty happily
A highway through the Scottish Highlands A mountain pass in Glencoe, late October. The hills are gold and brown with streaks of green. The mountains are steep and jagged, and the blue sky is patched with bright white clouds that reach down and touch the mountain peaks The harbor in Oban, Scotland. Old buildings, mist, faint silvery hints of sunset
October 30, 2025 at 1:48 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
On this day last year: Clan Donnachaidh museum, House of Bruar, the (discomfortingly zingy and apparently abused) Clava Cairns, and Inverness.
Bagpiper statue at Blair Atholl Clan Donnachaidh museum and House of Bruar complex Low hills in the Highlands with river winding through valley. Possibly Cairngorms? Mountains in the distance palmed by low clouds View from inside on of the passage tombs at the Clava Cairns outside Inverness
October 29, 2025 at 4:07 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
A year ago today we landed in Edinburgh. Our first time in Scotland. It was dark outside and the roads around the city were infuriating, but we made it to Kinghorn (a small town on the Firth of Forth) for the night. The soundtrack: Gnoss, Rura, and Siobhan Miller.
Dark street in Kinghorn, Scotland Sunrise on the Firth of Forth, Scotland A winding hill road leading down to the Firth of Forth in Kinghorn, Scotland Sunrise on the Firth of Forth
October 28, 2025 at 5:17 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
It's the anniversary of an absolutely perfect wedding. People say you don't get to enjoy your own wedding. We did.

Fan for life of Tigh Phaidi in Tuar Mhic Éadaigh, Co. Mayo. They made everything easy and beautiful and delicious.
A couple stands in front of the red door of Paddy's Thatch Bar in Tuar Mhic éadaigh, Co. Mayo, Ireland after being wed. She wears a white and green dress. He wears an earth toned Harris Tweed suit. There are plants hanging from red windows. Sunset on Lough Mask behind Tigh Phaidi in late October, 2024
October 26, 2025 at 3:28 PM
sprestonduncan.bsky.social
Screenshot of a notice stating that I've cancelled my Spotify subscription
October 24, 2025 at 8:11 PM