ocean thumps the shore
rust on the balcony
Expect brilliant poetry in a variety of forms from the following writers!
Barbara A Meier
Colleen Z Burke
Marilynne Thomas Walton
Joyce Joslin Lorenson
S. G. Larner
SuzAnne C. Cole
J. Todd Hawkins
Mark William Jackson
Faith de Savigne
Ron C. Moss
A. S. Patric
Janis Butler Holm
Margaret Owen Ruckert
Typsetting continues – stay tuned for more news soon.
Pre-Release review of my next fiction title ‘The Amber Isle’ over at Space and Sorcery, thank you!
Ashley Capes is a very versatile author: from the high fantasy of his “Masks” series, to the magic-tinged reality of “The Fairy Wren”; from the eerie ghost story of “A Whisper of Leaves” to the Outer Limits flavor of “Crossings”, I always look forward to his works, knowing I will find something different with each new foray into his different declinations of speculative fiction. So, when he asked me if I would read the ARC of this latest endeavor, a tale from a work-in progress collection, I jumped at the chance to sample his return to a fantasy realm.
The main character is a man who goes by the name of Never (an intriguing choice at that…) cursed by peculiar blood magic, something he can control only to a certain point and that makes him an outcast and a hunted man – not only for this but…
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We live on the third world from the sun. Number three. Nobody tells us what to do.
The people who taught us to count were being very kind.
It’s always time to leave.
If it rains, you either have your umbrella or you don’t.
The wind blows your hat off.
The sun rises also. I’d rather the stars didn’t describe us to each other; I’d rather we do it for ourselves.
Run in front of your shadow.
A sister who points to the sky at least once a decade is a good sister.
The landscape is motorized.
The train takes you where it goes.
Bridges among water.
Folks straggling along vast stretches of concrete, heading into the plane.
Don’t forget what your hat and shoes will look like when you are nowhere to be found.
Even the words floating in air make blue shadows.
If it tastes good we eat it.
The leaves are falling. Point things out.
Pick up the right things.
Hey guess what? What? I’ve learned how to talk. Great.
The person whose head was incomplete burst into tears.
As it fell, what could the doll do? Nothing.
Go to sleep.
You look great in shorts. And the flag looks great too.
Everyone enjoyed the explosions.
Time to wake up.
But better get used to dreams.
Bob Perelman’s famous LANGUAGE poem ‘China’ which I’ve always loved for the massive breadth – so much room for the reader in this one.
Just a note to say that I’ll probably have a few scheduled posts (rather than ‘live’ ones) coming up in Feb and March.
They’ll feature poetry, links, pics, mini reviews – but will all be pretty short posts nonetheless.
I’ll still be around but I have too many deadlines for various projects, including a host of freelance jobs that help pay the bills – so that’s coming first. I’ve got a new book in pre-release right now, but other than that, it’s low on the radar for releases and social media for a while too :)
Back soon as I can!
On the fruit stand.
We eat the smile
And spit out the teeth.
Just wanted to share this stunning short poem!
I’ve been a little obsessed with this song lately.
I can’t recall exactly how I stumbled across it but I suspect it was thanks to the AWESOME Mysterious Cities of Gold – but in any event, I’m really enjoying the song. I was already a Neil Young fan but for some reason I’d never heard Cortez the Killer or the Zuma album, which surprised me. A lot. And so perhaps in honour of that surprise I thought I’d share the song plus a bit of trivia about it (thanks, Wiki!):
Perhaps the most fascinating thing about this song is that it seems to upset some historians. Now, I understand that representation is a great mediator of reality but I doubt Young ever claimed to be presenting a historical document.
It’s obviously romanticising history for the purpose of song – and listeners need to learn how to navigate all forms of media. Obviously, the Aztecs did indeed know war and hate and yeah, Cortez did murder a lot of people – but interestingly, Young seems to humanise the coloniser in the second last verse:
And I know she’s living there
And she loves me to this day.
I still can’t remember when
or how I lost my way
Like whoever wrote the wikipedia article on the song, I too wonder, does Young sing from Cortez’s point of view there? Is Cortez pining for La Malinche? (And what a fascinating figure she is too.)
Next week – another banned song :)