My advisor and friend Doug Browning has published 4 of six fantasy
books on which he's been working.

I wanted to share this in case you're interested:


PDF downloads at the site.


From that site:


As of April 2007 I have completed four of the six books that go to
make up a continuous narrative of the fantasy series I've entitled

Given that these are works of high fantasy, the world which they
presuppose is not ours. It allows a modicum of magic, distinctive
customs and classifications, and flora and fauna that resemble ours
only in respect to the presence of humans, cats, pups, and bees.
There are, for example, no horses or other animals that may be ridden
into battle. But there are battles and a good deal of suspense,
mystery, quests, losses, and here and there fairly explicit sex.
There is a historical background that is assumed, as well as details
of terrain with a number of maps.

I have no interest in publishing any of these books, at least not in
the foreseeable future, and I have no interest in making money on
them. I have decided to make them available for my friends and any
other interested person on this website.


Poem for a Teacher, Grading

In honor of the season...

Poem for a Teacher, Grading

In this one, no thesis
In that one, no cites
The long one's a snore
The short one's not right.

Abandoning spelling
Escaping from pith
No staples, no numbers
No logic, just myth.

I glimpsed punctuation
I whiffed structured thought
'Twas only accomplished
By a paper web-bought.

An angel now singing
Comes to soothe my despair
Divinely she counsels
"Throw the lot down the stairs"

The ones at the bottom
Are full of B.S.
We'll give them an "F"
Their souls, we'll God-bless.

The ones near the middle
Are middling, we see!
They'll get  "C+/B-"
And if pass-fail, a "P"

The ones near the top
Well, clearly they're best
A  "B+/A"
"Kudos" and the rest.

Rebuking this angel
I invoked teacher's duty
To fairly assess
The young, dull, and moody.

I cited my training
My respect for the calling
My conscience as scholar
Both which I'd be galling.

The angel reached down
In her hand was a sandglass
She showed me my life
Blowing faster than winds pass.

In a flash did I follow
Her meaning so plain
I dared not look back
On a life spent in vain.

Grading aches lifted
Acute pains depart
I now dispatch low grades
With gossamer heart.

My afternoon grading
Is cut down by nine
I put on the radio
And sip on some wine.

So listen to angels
Or devils--or trolls
And don't waste your life's sand
Correcting dead scrolls.

David Hildebrand
Denver, CO