The river, where she sleeps
And probably because I spent yesterday at a parade, I fell over before one in the morning and slept for something like nine hours. I remember dreaming, about classes I never took. (Even in my dreams there were improbable connections between people I didn't think knew one another.) Waiting in my e-mail when I woke up was a contributor's copy of The Cascadia Subduction Zone, containing my poem "Ortygia to Trimountaine." It is about Boston landmarks and the nymph Arethousa; it was sparked by a late-night exchange with
asakiyume and I hold
derspatchel accountable as presiding muse. They're a new market for me. Print and electronic editions can be ordered here; all issues become freely available online six months after publication, meaning that you can now (if you didn't when I yelled about them in April) read Amal El-Mohtar's astonishing review of A Mayse-Bikhl and Rachel Swirsky's of The Moment of Change. It's a beautifully put together magazine. There may be more content here later, but right now you just get an eighteenth-century lion.

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(glad this poem is out in the world!)
... I still need to come back and comment on the last entry. I dreamed about it, even.
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No, why?
(glad this poem is out in the world!)
(Thank you! I am as well.)
... I still need to come back and comment on the last entry. I dreamed about it, even.
Dude. I do not think that has happened often. Thank you.
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A number of things you've discovered, or had brought to your attention, came from tumblr--but maybe by way of
If you had one, I would follow it. (Sadly, someone else has the blog name "sovay" on tumblr--I checked.) Perhaps I will go see if
Thank you
You're welcome!
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E-mail and IM. Old-fashioned. I am very unlikely to acquire another social media platform so long as Livejournal survives.