And the wild dogs in the mountains to the north of us come down

There were coyotes yipping and howling somewhere outside the house last night. Not dogs; or at least I have never heard a dog make that thin, almost whinnying keen before. I will be curious to hear if they return tonight. I expect I will still be awake.

From the sublime to the sugar-laden: for Thanksgiving, Burdick's is selling little chocolate turkeys with sliced almond tails. The dark ones are filled with clementine ganache, the milk with pecan, bourbon, and chestnut. I framed this one in its natural habitat, which was apparently on top of Georgette Heyer's The Toll-Gate (1954). It did not survive long. Fortunately, I memorialized it first.



Most of today was spent with gaudior and rushthatspeaks and an absolutely ridiculous recipe for Baileys brownies which I believe originated with tamnonlinear. My blood sugar might not forgive me until the end of the week, but I was impressed. And the conversation was even better.

I should know more obscene Greek verbs.

But while I have looked at the paper, making ready to write, the shadow has moved upon the wall

Well, this is Greek, but of another kind. My poem "ὡς πολλοῖς ὄμμασιν εἰς σὲ βλέπω" is now online at Strange Horizons. It was written in April for faithhopetricks, who was feeling less than kindly toward the Allegory of the Cave. The title is taken from an epigram attributed to Plato by Diogenes Laertius:

ἀστέρας εἰσαθρεῖς Ἀστὴρ ἐμός‧ εἴθε γενοίμην
οὐρανός, ὡς πολλοῖς ὄμμασιν εἰς σὲ βλέπω.

At the stars you gaze, Star of mine: if only I were
the sky, that with many eyes I might gaze you.

For the same Aster, he is also supposed to have written an epitaph:

ἀστὴρ πρὶν μὲν ἔλαμπες ἐνὶ ζῳοῖσιν Ἑῷος,
νῦν δὲ θανὼν λάμπεις Ἕσπερος ἐν φθιμένοις.

Star of the morning you shone once among the living,
dead now you shine as Hesperos among the lost.

I think my next collection of poems is going to need endnotes.