Da vergißt Pierrot die Trauermienen
Late this afternoon, when it was already dark and raining, the mail brought me a copy of Mythic Delirium #25. It has a striking silver-substrate cover and contains my poem, "The Description of a Wish." The title is actually from Wittgenstein: "The description of a wish is eo ipso the description of its fulfillment" (Die Darstellung eines Wunsches ist eo ipso die Darstellung seiner Erfüllung). It's commedia dell' arte slash. I am guessing that was not what Wittgenstein had in mind.
It's anyone's guess what he would have made of the rest of the issue, too, but since it contains Sofía Rhei and Lawrence Schimel's "The Magic Walnut," Rose Lemberg's "The tenured faculty meets to discuss the Moon's campus visit," Rachel Manija Brown's "An Unkindness of Ravens," and Mari Ness' "Silence," to name a very few, I think he'd have missed out if he didn't pick up a copy. Same goes for you. Even if you don't like philosophy.
It's anyone's guess what he would have made of the rest of the issue, too, but since it contains Sofía Rhei and Lawrence Schimel's "The Magic Walnut," Rose Lemberg's "The tenured faculty meets to discuss the Moon's campus visit," Rachel Manija Brown's "An Unkindness of Ravens," and Mari Ness' "Silence," to name a very few, I think he'd have missed out if he didn't pick up a copy. Same goes for you. Even if you don't like philosophy.

no subject
This week has filled itself with a small flurry of rejection emails: poetry, postdoc, telescope proposal. I furiously combated it yesterday by writing a poem about a postapocalyptic musterer who has to deal with cyborg kea going after his sheep. It redeemed the day somewhat.
no subject
Thank you!
I look forward to reading that poetry journal, in a sometime future where I don't live in World (alternatively, and amusingly, known as Other), a strange land where the postage is always phenomenally exorbitant. I blame it on the bordering elf-lands.
You wouldn't believe how weird kelpies get about next-day air.
I furiously combated it yesterday by writing a poem about a postapocalyptic musterer who has to deal with cyborg kea going after his sheep. It redeemed the day somewhat.
Your coping mechanisms are awesome.
no subject
Postapocalyptic cyborg omnivorous alpine parrots are a wonderful concept (at least in fiction). I hope you can find a publisher for this.
no subject
no subject
Best of luck!
no subject