“The Deer Come Down From the Mountains” and “Small Stack of Books”

When storms approach, the deer / come down / from the mountains. They stand in / people’s yards, they walk / through the Chevron station. / The deer look childlike and / amateurish, ears twitching / in the public park. / Gangs of them, five or six or seven, / they sniff the air, how do / they know the blizzard is coming? / Who among them / lives long enough to know the path / to safety? / The locals barely notice, avoid hitting / them with their cars.

Discovering A Great American Writer On Inter-Library Loan: On Nate Lippens’ My Dead Book

I first saw the name “Nate Lippens” while poking around alt-lit circles online. This might have been on Substack, or Twitter X. He was mentioned as a new writer, apparently of the alt-lit milieu. Based on the name “Nate Lippens," I pictured some young kid, who was funny maybe? Not necessarily an author, but maybe a Twitter anon, a political commentator or a Dimes Square personality, someone offbeat.  He seemed to be someone significant though. It was unclear why.