I'll sing my hands out of the earth and call them to me

[sovay]

A copy of Mythic Delirium #20 has just arrived at the house. Technically it belongs to my mother, since the subscribers' copies went out before the contributors'. Nevertheless, I am going to steal it and read it, trout hearts by Neil Gaiman, hand-inked illustration, epic table of contents and all. My poem "Zeitgeber" is in there, too. I've been in sixteen issues of Mythic Delirium. I owe hekatombs to time_shark: not for taking the poems, but for providing somewhere so neat for them to go, all the roots and freewheeling the title implies. Here's to the next ten years.

"Madonna of the Cave" has been accepted by ericmarin for Lone Star Stories. It is sort of the poem about golems handful_ofdust prompted me to write, sort of pieces of other things, like Lilith. (Speaking of whom, both erzebet and tithenai inform me that the miniature book of "Postscripts from the Red Sea" will very soon be available. I have even seen photographic evidence. Watch this, er, parenthesis.)

J.G. Ballard. His memory for the strangest of blessings.

Comments

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Hurrah for the new copy. Enjoy! And congratulations, and on the new acceptance as well.

J.G. Ballard. His memory for the strangest of blessings.

That says it nicely, I think. Amen.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

I got my copy (like your mother, as a subscriber)! I remember that poem of yours--I love it. I think the line I loved best at the time was the one about a cat's cradle of crimson thread, but this time what I noticed was coat-pocket origami.

I can't wait to see the miniature book. I will watch those parentheses.

Neil Gaiman's poem is good too, and coincidentally, last night I finally saw Mirror Mask, which I was curious about after reading your review. Visually quite a feast--I loved the sphynxes and the heroine's absolutely non-riddle riddles.

Lots of other good things in the Mythic Delirium issue as well--very satisfying.

From Ballard's obit

[madwriter.livejournal.com]

>>However, realizing that this career would not allow him time to write he left King’s College in 1952 to study English literature at the University of London.<<

Suddenly Ballard has just gone up a few notches in my estimation of him.