We'll have the stars, we'll have the trees

A pair of good things arrived in the mail on Friday afternoon and between the fact that I had to round-trip through Lexington to deal with taxes and insurance before five o'clock and then the hell-cold knocked me out for the rest of the evening, I did not post about either one of them:

My contributor's copy of Not One of Us #49, containing my poem "Delenda." It was written in late January in a choking moment of fury and despair; it draws a little on the Punic alt-history I didn't write and otherwise mostly an old set of thoughts here. The title is as in Carthago est.

My contributor's copy of Moral Relativism Magazine #5, containing my poem "Anthemoessa on the Main Line." It's another one of ashlyme's inspirations: in this case, the author's note that he "haunts second-hand bookshops and canals, and has yet to meet a rusalka." I stand by the epigraph.

So whatever else happens today, that's out there.

and rails gone (for guns) from your (and my) old town square

Because I came home to people asking: I am fine. I walked to the post office to mail my taxes, therefore absenting myself from all forms of media for an hour; all I noticed was that Verizon phone service was down, which I put down to the marathon itself and the concentration of Patriots' Day in Boston. derspatchel and shirei_shibolim told me. I do not want to say anything else except that I hope everyone reading this is all right, and everyone else as all right as they can be.