My new poem, up at Polu Texni, is based on the Grimm tale “Snow White and Rose Red.”
New speculative poem up on Mithila Review
“Harvest” appears in terrific company, including Holly Walrath, Sonya Taafe, and Anne Carly Abad, on Mithila Review.
Dark Halloweenish poem on Spillwords
“The Making of a Witch” is now up on Spillwords.
Gratitude poem for the end of November
My poem “Glastonbury 2014” is now up on Verse-Virtual, fitting its optional theme of gratitude.
New poem up at Sheila-na-Gig
“West Palm Beach Birds” is up on Sheila-Na-Gig today, along with beautiful poems by Tamara Madison, Alan Walowitz, Jeff Burt and other wonderful writers.
“Sofie’s Cloak” online
“Sofie’s Cloak,” a story for children based on Norwegian lore, is up on Ember: A Journal of Luminous Things. Thanks to editor Brian Lewis for publishing it, and for the charming illustration.
“The Cat Accursed”
“The Cat Accursed” (originally published in Niteblade) is up on Spillways, as part of their leadup to Halloween.
Bone Depot
“Bone Depot” is up on Trouvaille Review!
New Poems up on Setu
My poems “This Book,” “Flowers,” “River Buddha,” and “Funerary Relief of Hadirat Katthina are up now on Setu, a bi-lingual journal in Hindi and English.
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Wang Ping on Poetry
At a recent zoom reading/talk, Chinese poet Wang Ping made these comments, which I thought worth sharing:
“Poetry is the bone marrow of language. It forces us to constantly rethink, who am I? Why am I here? What is my past and what is my tomorrow?”
“Poetry does not belong to a few ritics or people who give out awards. It belongs to all of us.”
“Poetry is the ultimatte tool for self-explanation.”
“Poetry erases the borders of time and space.” She has an interest in quantum physics and believes the two disciplines are highly related.
“We put two things together–and the seeming unrelated things become entangled. That is metaphor.”
Her advice to poets: “Break the linear. Break the logic. Go like a spiderweb. Go collage.”
“When we pay attention, when we focus, life becomes a poem. Every budding flower, every blade of grass. — That’s why I love Walt Whitman…. We write poetry. We walk poetry all the time.”