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Ripping up a box of books he says I'll never understand
My poem "Punic War IV" has been accepted by Through the Gate. It's a political poem, like the majority of mine for the last three years; it is not a ghost poem, unless of empire. I am really pleased both that it has a home and that its home is this particular magazine, which I have missed ever since it went on hiatus two years ago. It is slated to return in May.
I slept terribly and was woken by a nerve-racking (and inaccurate, in that it was meant for one of our neighbors) doorbell, but I have tickets to see Perry Blackshear's The Rusalka (2018) tonight at the Boston Independent Film Festival. I do not know if I will be able to promise a review on return thanks to current levels of aching exhaustion and the necessity of running the soprano sectional tomorrow at ABV, but we will see. I mean, rusalka.
R.I.P. Heather Harper, who I knew almost strictly as an interpreter of Benjamin Britten. I'll just leave this War Requiem here.
I slept terribly and was woken by a nerve-racking (and inaccurate, in that it was meant for one of our neighbors) doorbell, but I have tickets to see Perry Blackshear's The Rusalka (2018) tonight at the Boston Independent Film Festival. I do not know if I will be able to promise a review on return thanks to current levels of aching exhaustion and the necessity of running the soprano sectional tomorrow at ABV, but we will see. I mean, rusalka.
R.I.P. Heather Harper, who I knew almost strictly as an interpreter of Benjamin Britten. I'll just leave this War Requiem here.