Rabbit, rabbit. My writing life is giving me whiplash. I spent the last several hours wrestling a poem that was upsetting me into shape, at the end of which time another poem (about which I feel much more cheerful) had come into print. I suppose I could survive if that's the pattern for May.
My poem "Mercury Retrograde Theatre" is now online at Through the Gate. It was written mostly during a pair of rehearsals for the Spring Sci-Fi Spectacular, thinking about Orphée and Cocteau and radio. (I still can't find out whether he heard Welles' 1938 War of the Worlds. Anybody in possession of this information should write that poem instead.) The rest of the issue is ridiculously good. Three of the poets I knew I liked already; the fourth is new to me and I hope for more.
Mat Joiner wrote "Navigations" for me. I love it dearly. I still want "A Wake for Tesla" to win something.
My poem "Mercury Retrograde Theatre" is now online at Through the Gate. It was written mostly during a pair of rehearsals for the Spring Sci-Fi Spectacular, thinking about Orphée and Cocteau and radio. (I still can't find out whether he heard Welles' 1938 War of the Worlds. Anybody in possession of this information should write that poem instead.) The rest of the issue is ridiculously good. Three of the poets I knew I liked already; the fourth is new to me and I hope for more.
Mat Joiner wrote "Navigations" for me. I love it dearly. I still want "A Wake for Tesla" to win something.
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