My poem "September Song," written for my brother and his wife at their wedding, is now online at Goblin Fruit—in strangely familiar and yet strangely altered circumstances. You'll have to click over to find out why, but I am very pleased to find it in such company as J.C. Runolfson's "Phineas Gage Blinks for Eternity," Rachel Manija Brown's "Minotaur Noir," and Shweta Narayan's "Recipe for a year of spring," among other mad and lovely offerings. I know who's to blame, too.
There is a land where the sun and the moon do not shine; where the birds are dreams, the stars are visions, and the immortal flowers spring from the thoughts of death. In that land grow fruit, the juices of which sometimes cause madness, and sometimes manliness; for that fruit is flavoured with life and death, and it is the proper nourishment for the souls of man.
—Hope Mirrlees, Lud-in-the-Mist (1926)
There is a land where the sun and the moon do not shine; where the birds are dreams, the stars are visions, and the immortal flowers spring from the thoughts of death. In that land grow fruit, the juices of which sometimes cause madness, and sometimes manliness; for that fruit is flavoured with life and death, and it is the proper nourishment for the souls of man.
—Hope Mirrlees, Lud-in-the-Mist (1926)
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