I gave my love a cherry that had no stone

My poem "Crossing the Line," which is about and dedicated to my mother, is now online at Goblin Fruit. Hello, internet publication!

From a recipe salvaged from one of the numberless back issues of Gourmet that were recently put out for recycling, my father and I made negimaki—like sushi, only with scallions and flank steak—last night. They were delicious. We couldn't find mirin for the marinade in the local liquor store, but that was the only hitch. Pounding the flank steak to a thickness of one-sixteenth of an inch was also peculiarly therapeutic. Our house smelled like a Japanese restaurant until this morning, when my mother made pear cake.

I had spam today from Jove Scroggins.

No more water, but fire next time

Last night I dreamed vividly that I was engaged to be married to someone I didn't love, that I was already in my wedding dress, with a cold-sweat sickness in my stomach and the knowledge that I couldn't call off the ceremony. He didn't even know me very well. We were in the church of some species of Christianity that doesn't exist, with a sort of Mithraeum and words carved into the wall, small capitals in sandy-colored granite, and water trickling down over them. I woke up and for a moment I was just so relieved that I wasn't about to be married. It was a deeply unsettling dream.

There is a flotilla of geese on the Res. When I walked back from the post office, I counted over two hundred, all drawn up in their individual flock formations. I wonder if they're planning an attack.

This song may have cemented my association of Judas with Loki, which would no doubt strike both of them as weird and amuse Snorri Sturluson. Not to mention Guy Fawkes.

The Bonfire Carol (The Devil's Interval)

There were twelve bonfires burning in a field
(Judas, Judas)
There was one for Peter, there was one for John
Every disciple, he had one
(Judas, Judas)
There was one for James that died by the sword
But the biggest and the best was for our dear Lord

Burn, burn, Judas, burn slow
Bright, bright, bright for our dear Lord's sake
Burn slow for Judas
Judas was a redheaded man

There was one bonfire standing all alone
Down by the marish it smoked away
It smoked all night and it smoked all day
'Twas a proper green pother for all to see
But the fire burns bright on our dear Lord's tree

Burn, burn, Judas, burn slow
Bright, bright, bright for our dear Lord's sake
Burn slow for Judas
Judas was a redheaded man

There were three bonfires burning on a hill
They burned as martyrs for a paltry plot
They burned for those that will ne'er be forgot
They burned for treason in the king's country
As they burned for our Lord high on Calvary

Burn, burn, Judas, burn slow
Bright, bright, bright for our dear Lord's sake
Burn slow for Judas
Judas was a redheaded man

There were twelve bonfires burning in a field
There was one for Peter, there was one for John
Every disciple, he had one
There was one for James that died by the sword
But the biggest and the best was for our dear Lord