The afternoon's mail brought my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #86, containing my poem "Northern Comfort." I wrote it out of my discoveries of the ghost-ground that has been directly underfoot all my life and longer, from King Philip's War to Pomp's Wall, and this administration and its murderous terror of history. It shares a page and an issue of emptiness with a precisely targeted incantation by Gwynne Garfinkle as well the equally hollowing fiction and poetry of Kris Schokrowsky, Penny Durham, Carsten Cheung, Jennifer Crow, and more. I almost referred to the covert art by John and Flo Stanton, obscured by shattered webs of negative space or the rust-light of abandoned industries. Subscribe! Contribute! Make the right kind of strangeness in this world. I am off to South Station to collect one north-traveling seal.
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Active Entries
- 1: A stranger light comes on slowly
- 2: A kidnapper wouldn't jump into a cold sea
- 3: I might fail math if you don't move your shoulder
- 4: One boundary makes another
- 5: I swear only this city knows
- 6: It's maybe five minutes onscreen
- 7: From the morning past the evening to the end of the light
- 8: I bought Blue Velvet on a DVD
- 9: A lonesome highway is a pretty good subject
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