It's fair to say we were the ghosts we used to want to come to our town and haunt
My poems "Plures" and "Digging In" are now online at microverses: a hub for tiny speculative narratives.
The first was written almost exactly a year ago; it is perhaps more terrible than its original impetus that it doesn't read like it. The second has its roots, literally, in a cornfield visited by me and
selkie in the fall of 2019, by which I might as well now mean the other side of the moon; it was written last fall and came out a spell.
I don't know if I would call them a nice per se note to go out of the year on, but their publication makes me very happy. I love the photos chosen to accompany both. I include the murder corn for completeness' sake.

The first was written almost exactly a year ago; it is perhaps more terrible than its original impetus that it doesn't read like it. The second has its roots, literally, in a cornfield visited by me and
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I don't know if I would call them a nice per se note to go out of the year on, but their publication makes me very happy. I love the photos chosen to accompany both. I include the murder corn for completeness' sake.

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It was some fine corn!
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Thank you!
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Thank you!
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And the photo is just so, so marvelous. (And your poem is perfect for it. Perfect!)
And if the new yer finds us sitting on the black couch, gazing into the corn with our flinty eyes and our wrung-out hearts, SO BE IT. (The light still rises from the corn and the foxtails magnificently)
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Thank you!
And the photo is just so, so marvelous. (And your poem is perfect for it. Perfect!)
I am still pleased about the photo, but it was just there to take. It just looked like that.
(The light still rises from the corn and the foxtails magnificently)
(It does.)
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Thank you!
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I suspect there's a lot in the murder corn to work with.
*hugs*