I said last night that it is very difficult to observe a holiday that is supposed to place you outside of time when time has felt broken for six months and counting. Nonetheless, we managed to meet my parents for socially distanced break-fast after two stars and the planet Venus had come out in the sky. My body is convinced I ate my own weight in challah and chopped liver, courtesy of delivery from Mamaleh's. I have informed my body I fully intend to do it again tomorrow. We sat around the fire pit until it had nearly gone out and there were more stars and planets above us through the trees.
I spent the hour immediately after we got home sewing up the torn sleeve of the now something like forty-five-year-old leather jacket I haven't worn in seventeen years, since I procrastinated epically on getting it repaired.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch listened patiently to me exclaiming things like "No wonder leatherworking is a specialized art! Why don't we have a real thimble? My kingdom for an awl!" while Hestia nosed excitedly at the leather, perhaps scenting long-gone other cat. The stitches stand out like the rivets on a 1938 Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic Coupe and I have told myself it's in keeping with punk aesthetic, not to mention kintsugi and tikkun olam. It's the right weather for it.
The mail had brought my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #64, in which my poem "Νυχαυγής" appears in the second half of the two-part issue. The first deals with travel, the second with baggage, and altogether the table of contents is jam-packed with fine work by Jennifer Crow, Pam Bissonette, Phoebe Low, Cate Gardner, Alexandra Seidel, Holly Day, and more. The title of my contribution means night-shining; it is an epithet of Melinoe, the daughter of Persephone and Hades (and Zeus) invoked in magic and the Orphic mysteries. It's autumnal. There are stars in it, too.
The cover and table of contents for Climbing Lightly Through Forests: A Poetry Anthology Honoring Ursula K. Le Guin (ed. R.B. Lemberg and Lisa M. Bradley, Aqueduct Press 2021) have been revealed and look spectacular. I wish I did not have to wait until January for it to come out. The future is such a complicated proposition. We move into it no matter what we do. The doors have closed; it's the new year now. G'mar tov.
I spent the hour immediately after we got home sewing up the torn sleeve of the now something like forty-five-year-old leather jacket I haven't worn in seventeen years, since I procrastinated epically on getting it repaired.
spatch listened patiently to me exclaiming things like "No wonder leatherworking is a specialized art! Why don't we have a real thimble? My kingdom for an awl!" while Hestia nosed excitedly at the leather, perhaps scenting long-gone other cat. The stitches stand out like the rivets on a 1938 Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic Coupe and I have told myself it's in keeping with punk aesthetic, not to mention kintsugi and tikkun olam. It's the right weather for it.The mail had brought my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #64, in which my poem "Νυχαυγής" appears in the second half of the two-part issue. The first deals with travel, the second with baggage, and altogether the table of contents is jam-packed with fine work by Jennifer Crow, Pam Bissonette, Phoebe Low, Cate Gardner, Alexandra Seidel, Holly Day, and more. The title of my contribution means night-shining; it is an epithet of Melinoe, the daughter of Persephone and Hades (and Zeus) invoked in magic and the Orphic mysteries. It's autumnal. There are stars in it, too.
The cover and table of contents for Climbing Lightly Through Forests: A Poetry Anthology Honoring Ursula K. Le Guin (ed. R.B. Lemberg and Lisa M. Bradley, Aqueduct Press 2021) have been revealed and look spectacular. I wish I did not have to wait until January for it to come out. The future is such a complicated proposition. We move into it no matter what we do. The doors have closed; it's the new year now. G'mar tov.
