We won't be cold again
as the wires before me and behind me
start to glow brighter red
and I feel myself almost ready
to shoot right out the top of
Nick's toaster
I wonder if I would have been
as comfortable upstairs
and I kind of doubt it
Saturday, October 30, 2010
keeping warm
Wade German and I were talking about not being cold, and he found me a couple of links about herbal remedies for FMAO, which afflicts me every winter. These are the links he sent me.
http://www.ehow.com/how_2204183_cinnamon-ginger-cayenne-keep-warm.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brigitte-mars/7-herbs-and-spices-that-w_b_384883.html
I started thinking about how I could apply this advice. I wonder if adding a little cinnamon to my coffee would help. It might not change the flavor very much, which I am sure would be a good thing. I've had ginger tea and I don't like it. I seriously tried to get to like it, because some Korean girls gave us a whole bunch of it (a nice looking gift variety pack) as a host and hostess gift. My wife didn't like it at all, so I drank virtually all of it. I was disappointed that I couldn't enjoy it even after really giving it a fair chance to win me over. On the other hand, we love Asian food made with ginger. I've tried crystallized ginger and ginger beer and it don't care for them. My wife likes ginger every way except in tea. I used to make at least one stirfry a week. Now that I can't do the cooking we use a lot less ginger. I wonder how ginger would be in marinara sauce. On pizza. We could have ginger three or four times a week if that worked out. And I wonder what would happen if I just tried it without telling her! Now ginger candy is a possibility, and I love real gingersnaps that have real ginger in them. She used to make those. I could definitely put cayenne in marinara sauce and in pizza sauce, but it seems a shame to waste the hot peppers we grew in our garden. Would they be just as good?
No answers here. Only questions and speculation. If I try any of this stuff and seem to perceive a result I will definitely let you know.
http://www.ehow.com/how_2204183_cinnamon-ginger-cayenne-keep-warm.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brigitte-mars/7-herbs-and-spices-that-w_b_384883.html
I started thinking about how I could apply this advice. I wonder if adding a little cinnamon to my coffee would help. It might not change the flavor very much, which I am sure would be a good thing. I've had ginger tea and I don't like it. I seriously tried to get to like it, because some Korean girls gave us a whole bunch of it (a nice looking gift variety pack) as a host and hostess gift. My wife didn't like it at all, so I drank virtually all of it. I was disappointed that I couldn't enjoy it even after really giving it a fair chance to win me over. On the other hand, we love Asian food made with ginger. I've tried crystallized ginger and ginger beer and it don't care for them. My wife likes ginger every way except in tea. I used to make at least one stirfry a week. Now that I can't do the cooking we use a lot less ginger. I wonder how ginger would be in marinara sauce. On pizza. We could have ginger three or four times a week if that worked out. And I wonder what would happen if I just tried it without telling her! Now ginger candy is a possibility, and I love real gingersnaps that have real ginger in them. She used to make those. I could definitely put cayenne in marinara sauce and in pizza sauce, but it seems a shame to waste the hot peppers we grew in our garden. Would they be just as good?
No answers here. Only questions and speculation. If I try any of this stuff and seem to perceive a result I will definitely let you know.
Friday, October 29, 2010
geotanka
a billion
generations fell here
since we got backbones
how many of those dying
knew they lived and died
generations fell here
since we got backbones
how many of those dying
knew they lived and died
Thursday, October 28, 2010
out with a bang
Fremmis ate the world
It was good, actually
it especially enjoyed
the hot crunchy center
It was good, actually
it especially enjoyed
the hot crunchy center
won't someone help
Time-travel flash http://www.dailycabal.com/2010/10/help-me-daily-cabal/ with shout out to Star Wars
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
climate change
The rice-cake ziggurat
the 100-year drought
ended with
a frog strangler
course
there were
no frogs
the 100-year drought
ended with
a frog strangler
course
there were
no frogs
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
nanofiction--The neutronium dreadnaught
The neutronium dreadnaught
The ship went through the Station like a cement nail through wet cardboard. Oops.
The ship went through the Station like a cement nail through wet cardboard. Oops.
Monday, October 25, 2010
mythoid couplet
That is not puce which hath another shade,
And in strange suds eldritch blood may fade.
And in strange suds eldritch blood may fade.
and it takes 952 years
Parenting for Generation Space
child stranded on Rigel IV
with no cash
wiring 1500 credits from earth
easy as pie
the cost?
astronomical!
child stranded on Rigel IV
with no cash
wiring 1500 credits from earth
easy as pie
the cost?
astronomical!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Amazon women and the avocado of doom in "Brushfires" -- available now
Amazon Women and the Avocado of Doom
This poem, originally published in Wilde Times in 2005, is reprinted in Brushfires, my new book of poetry.
In the comic book, they had impossibly long legs,
very large antigravitational breasts (one each),
and eyes as big as their breasts should have been.
Young boys turned past pages advertising
inexpensive microscopes and books that explained
how to date girls, looking for more panels featuring
callipygian Greeks.
In reality, they hurried over the bumpy
olive-green surface, darting quick glances
over their muscular shoulders. The terrain was slippery
where there were bad spots in the fruit. They had to steady
themselves with their hands, but didn’t fall, and kept arrows
at the ready.
In the comic book, they got into the sort of trouble
from which only a handsome man could extricate them.
Inexplicably, the most beautiful of the Amazons
would fall for their dashing savior. In the next issue
she is single once more and ready to be rescued
all over again.
In reality, there were no rescuers, and they had to do
all the saving for themselves. In this summer,
it was 100° in the shade, and there was no shade.
The avocado got pretty ripe, I can tell you, along
about mid-July.
In the comic book, trees grew and flocks of goats roamed
on the golf-turf-like surface of the giant fruit.
A handsome man wearing tight spandex
in bold colors and possessing peculiar powers
flew in from another comic book to save the day….
Again.
In reality, the weather in August was unseasonably hot
and the flesh of the fruit darkened and softened.
In the comic book, they all lived to fight another day
(remember that it was all written for small boys).
They sank beneath the surface, thrashing in futility,
mud flowing into their open mouths,
choking soundless screams.
They slogged through hip-deep mud and
barely made it to a waiting Blackhawk helicopter.
piloted by Captain America’s good-looking brother.
End
Signed copies of the book will be available from me in about a week. Pristine copies are already available at GenreMall.com for $5.90 plus two dollars shipping and handling (listed under "new items").
This poem, originally published in Wilde Times in 2005, is reprinted in Brushfires, my new book of poetry.
In the comic book, they had impossibly long legs,
very large antigravitational breasts (one each),
and eyes as big as their breasts should have been.
Young boys turned past pages advertising
inexpensive microscopes and books that explained
how to date girls, looking for more panels featuring
callipygian Greeks.
In reality, they hurried over the bumpy
olive-green surface, darting quick glances
over their muscular shoulders. The terrain was slippery
where there were bad spots in the fruit. They had to steady
themselves with their hands, but didn’t fall, and kept arrows
at the ready.
In the comic book, they got into the sort of trouble
from which only a handsome man could extricate them.
Inexplicably, the most beautiful of the Amazons
would fall for their dashing savior. In the next issue
she is single once more and ready to be rescued
all over again.
In reality, there were no rescuers, and they had to do
all the saving for themselves. In this summer,
it was 100° in the shade, and there was no shade.
The avocado got pretty ripe, I can tell you, along
about mid-July.
In the comic book, trees grew and flocks of goats roamed
on the golf-turf-like surface of the giant fruit.
A handsome man wearing tight spandex
in bold colors and possessing peculiar powers
flew in from another comic book to save the day….
Again.
In reality, the weather in August was unseasonably hot
and the flesh of the fruit darkened and softened.
In the comic book, they all lived to fight another day
(remember that it was all written for small boys).
They sank beneath the surface, thrashing in futility,
mud flowing into their open mouths,
choking soundless screams.
They slogged through hip-deep mud and
barely made it to a waiting Blackhawk helicopter.
piloted by Captain America’s good-looking brother.
End
Signed copies of the book will be available from me in about a week. Pristine copies are already available at GenreMall.com for $5.90 plus two dollars shipping and handling (listed under "new items").
dreams and nightmares and new poetry book
All subscribers and contributors should definitely have Dreams and Nightmares 87 in hand. If you don't have it, and you think you should, please let me know.
Yesterday I heard from Tyree Campbell at Sam's Dot publishing that my new poetry book, "Brushfires," is on its way to me now. I should get it within a week. Because the publisher already has it I imagine you can already order it (through the Genre Mall).
Yesterday I heard from Tyree Campbell at Sam's Dot publishing that my new poetry book, "Brushfires," is on its way to me now. I should get it within a week. Because the publisher already has it I imagine you can already order it (through the Genre Mall).
Thursday, October 21, 2010
seasonality
my halloween
costume strikes just the right note
faux child
in my world
who gets the most candy wins
costume strikes just the right note
faux child
in my world
who gets the most candy wins
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
mobius condo 3/3
loathsome blue pseudo-parchment, nor the collection of warped vinyl records stored by her brother under the sink in his mobile home. All of that was history, from this day forth! He went into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and took out a knife.
"No!" she screamed, as he moved towards her, treading implacably on the Sears "Persian" carpet. Pretentious piece of junk, he thought. Still, it was worth something, better not to spill anything on it. Faint screams came from the apartment below, shots, then more screams. The tea kettle began to whistle.
Emily backed out onto the balcony, and he followed, like a fork stalking a pea. Billy advanced onto the balcony, where Emily was entangled in the ferns. She uttered little mewls of fear and knocked over an African violet. She appeared to have wet herself.
"Let me help you with that," he muttered, and cut away her left sleeve. It was a revolting mélange of anthropomorphic farm animals. He cast it aside.
"I'd better slip into something more comfortable," she said, "this g-string is a pain in the ass." She ducked under his arm and headed to the laundry room. Billy picked up the African violet. It was dead anyway ... overwatered. He looked over the balcony. There, 5 stories below him, a brilliant red '57 Chevy was parked illegally. Several meter maids clustered around it like kids at an ice-cream truck. One straddled the driver's-side mirror, sliding a ticket under the wiper blade. Billy dropped the plant, scoring a direct hit on the hood of the car and spraying the girl with dirt. The doorbell rang. It was Chartreuse, looking a little the worse for wear. He staggered in and collapsed on a chair. "Got any beer?" he gasped.
When Emily reemerged they were playing cards. She had not changed her clothes.
"Do you like my new car? It's a Fillmore."*
"Yeah, it's really cool. Deal. And by the way, where are my records?" Billy was playing it close to his chest. Emily shifted nervously in her chair. She was getting thirsty. Chartreuse scowled and spat on the floor. Billy belched. It was quiet, very quiet. Some might say it was
*Due to Frank Zappa
"No!" she screamed, as he moved towards her, treading implacably on the Sears "Persian" carpet. Pretentious piece of junk, he thought. Still, it was worth something, better not to spill anything on it. Faint screams came from the apartment below, shots, then more screams. The tea kettle began to whistle.
Emily backed out onto the balcony, and he followed, like a fork stalking a pea. Billy advanced onto the balcony, where Emily was entangled in the ferns. She uttered little mewls of fear and knocked over an African violet. She appeared to have wet herself.
"Let me help you with that," he muttered, and cut away her left sleeve. It was a revolting mélange of anthropomorphic farm animals. He cast it aside.
"I'd better slip into something more comfortable," she said, "this g-string is a pain in the ass." She ducked under his arm and headed to the laundry room. Billy picked up the African violet. It was dead anyway ... overwatered. He looked over the balcony. There, 5 stories below him, a brilliant red '57 Chevy was parked illegally. Several meter maids clustered around it like kids at an ice-cream truck. One straddled the driver's-side mirror, sliding a ticket under the wiper blade. Billy dropped the plant, scoring a direct hit on the hood of the car and spraying the girl with dirt. The doorbell rang. It was Chartreuse, looking a little the worse for wear. He staggered in and collapsed on a chair. "Got any beer?" he gasped.
When Emily reemerged they were playing cards. She had not changed her clothes.
"Do you like my new car? It's a Fillmore."*
"Yeah, it's really cool. Deal. And by the way, where are my records?" Billy was playing it close to his chest. Emily shifted nervously in her chair. She was getting thirsty. Chartreuse scowled and spat on the floor. Billy belched. It was quiet, very quiet. Some might say it was
*Due to Frank Zappa
in a white room
white
room
drenched in
sunlight still
outgassing long since
ceased dry thing in the captain's chair
dark corridor cools and ship drifts slowly to the light
room
drenched in
sunlight still
outgassing long since
ceased dry thing in the captain's chair
dark corridor cools and ship drifts slowly to the light
Monday, October 18, 2010
review of "hold me closer, necromancer"
539 words
Review
McBride, Lish, 2010, Hold me Closer, Necromancer, Henry Holt, 343 pages, hardback, "young adult," ISBN 978-0-8050-9098-7.
This is Lish McBride's first published novel, and I don't think she quite has the young-adult thing down. No matter how much two characters are attracted to each other, in a young-adult novel they don't have sex on screen and outside of marriage.At least, not in the United States. That said, I would unhesitatingly give this book to any young adult I know who likes fantasy fiction.
The title is definitely odd. It's one of those titles about which, when you get to the relevant part of the story, you say to yourself something like "okay, I can see that, but it's still an offputting title." Other adjectives might include misleading, suicidal (as in the book might commit commercial suicide because of the title), and other such derogatory terms.
The cover, apparently by Rich Deas (I say "apparently" because he is listed as the jacket designer), is pretty nice. And I find the whole idea of the book enchanting. Powerful evil person trying to kill innocent young and ineffectual protagonist. This is a standard plot situation for a young-adult story. Except the protagonist is a necromancer. And he doesn't know it. It adds a whole new level to the requirement typical of such books that he find himself. Sam is a likable fellow, and so are his friends. As the book goes on the reader discovers that there is a lot going on beneath the still waters of Sam's surface personality. Yet I never felt cheated. I never felt that the author had concealed something important that I really should have known. ("You didn't think I would notice that he had two heads?")
McBride explains how necromancy works (it's not what you think), how werewolves work, how ghosts work, but not everything in this story is explained. Spirit animals, for instance. Why do people have them? What do they do? Are they real animals or something more? I assume that some of this will be revealed in a sequel. And there is going to be a sequel, out about a year after this one.
Dare I mention Patricia Briggs? I dare, I dare. The magical systems are not the same, but something about McBride's world is reminiscent of Briggs' werewolf and fae universe. The book reminds me also of some of Tim Powers' novels. The protagonists have similar personalities. There's no excessive drinking or excruciating and prolonged pain, as is inevitable in a Powers book. But Sam would have felt natural in "Declare." He's better off in McBride's hands.
Not that there isn't dramatic tension in "Hold me closer, necromancer," and the kind of violence that is inevitable when powerful magic users think only of themselves. But I think the level of violence is appropriate for a horror-fantasy novel for young adults.Better keep a couple of cartoon books on hand just in case the person you give the book to doesn't finish it in the first session and has trouble going to sleep.
It's not easy to believe that this is Lish McBride's first published novel. I have read a lot of first novels. This one is suave and debonair by comparison. Assuming that McBride will improve her craft, as most writers do after the first book, I am really looking forward to the next one.
David C. Kopaska-Merkel
1300 Kicker Rd
Tuscaloosa, AL 35404
205-553-2284
jopnquog@Gmail.com
Review
McBride, Lish, 2010, Hold me Closer, Necromancer, Henry Holt, 343 pages, hardback, "young adult," ISBN 978-0-8050-9098-7.
This is Lish McBride's first published novel, and I don't think she quite has the young-adult thing down. No matter how much two characters are attracted to each other, in a young-adult novel they don't have sex on screen and outside of marriage.At least, not in the United States. That said, I would unhesitatingly give this book to any young adult I know who likes fantasy fiction.
The title is definitely odd. It's one of those titles about which, when you get to the relevant part of the story, you say to yourself something like "okay, I can see that, but it's still an offputting title." Other adjectives might include misleading, suicidal (as in the book might commit commercial suicide because of the title), and other such derogatory terms.
The cover, apparently by Rich Deas (I say "apparently" because he is listed as the jacket designer), is pretty nice. And I find the whole idea of the book enchanting. Powerful evil person trying to kill innocent young and ineffectual protagonist. This is a standard plot situation for a young-adult story. Except the protagonist is a necromancer. And he doesn't know it. It adds a whole new level to the requirement typical of such books that he find himself. Sam is a likable fellow, and so are his friends. As the book goes on the reader discovers that there is a lot going on beneath the still waters of Sam's surface personality. Yet I never felt cheated. I never felt that the author had concealed something important that I really should have known. ("You didn't think I would notice that he had two heads?")
McBride explains how necromancy works (it's not what you think), how werewolves work, how ghosts work, but not everything in this story is explained. Spirit animals, for instance. Why do people have them? What do they do? Are they real animals or something more? I assume that some of this will be revealed in a sequel. And there is going to be a sequel, out about a year after this one.
Dare I mention Patricia Briggs? I dare, I dare. The magical systems are not the same, but something about McBride's world is reminiscent of Briggs' werewolf and fae universe. The book reminds me also of some of Tim Powers' novels. The protagonists have similar personalities. There's no excessive drinking or excruciating and prolonged pain, as is inevitable in a Powers book. But Sam would have felt natural in "Declare." He's better off in McBride's hands.
Not that there isn't dramatic tension in "Hold me closer, necromancer," and the kind of violence that is inevitable when powerful magic users think only of themselves. But I think the level of violence is appropriate for a horror-fantasy novel for young adults.Better keep a couple of cartoon books on hand just in case the person you give the book to doesn't finish it in the first session and has trouble going to sleep.
It's not easy to believe that this is Lish McBride's first published novel. I have read a lot of first novels. This one is suave and debonair by comparison. Assuming that McBride will improve her craft, as most writers do after the first book, I am really looking forward to the next one.
David C. Kopaska-Merkel
1300 Kicker Rd
Tuscaloosa, AL 35404
205-553-2284
jopnquog@Gmail.com
mobius condo 2/3
Chartreuse picked up the card table and hurled it in Billy's face. Cards, glasses, and the revolver sprayed across the floor. Billy sprawled on the floor, blinking through blood and beer, as Chartreuse turned and leaped across the hole in the floor. He was apparently trying for the family room. He didn't make it. His fingers scrabbled at the carpet on the far side of the hole. He hung on for a moment and was gone.
Emily dashed in from the kitchen. "Oh Billy," she cried, "what shall we do now?"
At first he had no answer, and then the beginnings of a hideous plan began to crystallize in his brain like mold forming in chicken soup left far too long in a plastic box in the refrigerator. He examined it from every angle, as it drifted downward...yes, the plan was perfect. And he grinned.
"Billy," quavered Emily, "what are you looking at me like that for?"
Her grammar was execrable. But no matter. None of that mattered now, not her hairlip, her political connections in Cleveland, nor the worthless fish-and-chips stock on that
Emily dashed in from the kitchen. "Oh Billy," she cried, "what shall we do now?"
At first he had no answer, and then the beginnings of a hideous plan began to crystallize in his brain like mold forming in chicken soup left far too long in a plastic box in the refrigerator. He examined it from every angle, as it drifted downward...yes, the plan was perfect. And he grinned.
"Billy," quavered Emily, "what are you looking at me like that for?"
Her grammar was execrable. But no matter. None of that mattered now, not her hairlip, her political connections in Cleveland, nor the worthless fish-and-chips stock on that
Sunday, October 17, 2010
mobius condo 1/3
too quiet.
"What did you say?" inquired Chartreuse ominously. Emily shifted in her chair. Apparently her g-string wasn't as comfortable as she'd expected.
"Really need to get this chair recaned," she mumbled.
Billy shuffled the cards with maniacal deliberation, his attention apparently fixed on this process to the exclusion of all else. A stray hair fell maddeningly across his forehead.
"I said," began Chartreuse, a little louder...but he was interrupted by the explosion of the television in the next room.
Billy laid the gun on the card table and picked up the cards. His hair was perfect. "Five-card draw?" he inquired, one eyebrow arched slightly. Emily shivered. She hadn't seen him like this since the night his brother disappeared on a 24-hour trick-or-treating spree last Hallowe'en.
"Billy," she said, "I'll make some tea." She hurried into the kitchen, trying to surreptitiously rearrange her clothing into a more comfortable position.
"What did you say?" inquired Chartreuse ominously. Emily shifted in her chair. Apparently her g-string wasn't as comfortable as she'd expected.
"Really need to get this chair recaned," she mumbled.
Billy shuffled the cards with maniacal deliberation, his attention apparently fixed on this process to the exclusion of all else. A stray hair fell maddeningly across his forehead.
"I said," began Chartreuse, a little louder...but he was interrupted by the explosion of the television in the next room.
Billy laid the gun on the card table and picked up the cards. His hair was perfect. "Five-card draw?" he inquired, one eyebrow arched slightly. Emily shivered. She hadn't seen him like this since the night his brother disappeared on a 24-hour trick-or-treating spree last Hallowe'en.
"Billy," she said, "I'll make some tea." She hurried into the kitchen, trying to surreptitiously rearrange her clothing into a more comfortable position.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener
Ben wracked his brain. What could he have done that had led to him being reincarnated as an avocado?
Friday, October 15, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
you don't want to read this one
The further adventures of the intrepid Bonito, in which he climbs bare-handed to the peak of Mount Fooshla, encounters the fiendish ghu'l-people of Eca-dir, and learns first-hand the truth behind the whispered legends of the diabolical frond-torture: Part 6, the left armpit.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
DN 87
All contributor copies, all overseas copies, and about half of domestic subscriber copies mailed yesterday. The remainder will be mailed tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
sorry
there was a young clone on his own
he resembled his da to the bone
he started a band
their music was grand
but sounded just like his Dad's own
he resembled his da to the bone
he started a band
their music was grand
but sounded just like his Dad's own
Monday, October 11, 2010
DN 87
Most will go in the mail tomorrow. Can't mail 'em today cos Columbus gave the gift that keeps on giving.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Me reading one of my flash stories
Yeah, couldn't figure out how to upload audio file. Alas.
"Take it on the Mutton," featuring Hasp Deadbolt, P.I.
"Take it on the Mutton," featuring Hasp Deadbolt, P.I.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
poor feller
Antichrist's Lament
all living flowers die, beneath my frigid gaze
can't give them to my girl, no matter what I pays.
all living flowers die, beneath my frigid gaze
can't give them to my girl, no matter what I pays.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
review of The Simian Transcript
http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/wual/arts.artsmain?action=viewArticle&sid=14&id=1710301&pid=217
new poetry book
My book of poetry, which encapsulates the best of what I've done for the last couple of decades, as well as a lot of never before seen new stuff from the last couple of years, is at the printer now. "Brushfires" will be published by Sam's Dot, just in time for the holiday season. A great gift for all the dark poets in your life.
"Brushfires" is a corporate buzzword from a couple of decades ago. It refers to things that some people think are urgent and important and that other people think are pointless and irrelevant. When you're hassled by life's manufactured urgencies, or even real emergencies, read some poetry and drink a glass of wine. The book, "brushfires," may be just the ticket for stress relief. Writing the poems certainly did that for me and I hope reading them will do the same for you.
Signed copies will be available at the same price as nonsigned. Look for details in a few weeks when the book is in my hands.
The very best from me,
David
"Brushfires" is a corporate buzzword from a couple of decades ago. It refers to things that some people think are urgent and important and that other people think are pointless and irrelevant. When you're hassled by life's manufactured urgencies, or even real emergencies, read some poetry and drink a glass of wine. The book, "brushfires," may be just the ticket for stress relief. Writing the poems certainly did that for me and I hope reading them will do the same for you.
Signed copies will be available at the same price as nonsigned. Look for details in a few weeks when the book is in my hands.
The very best from me,
David
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
give the gift of language
Specifically, Dreams and Nightmares. Makes a great holiday gift, comes three times a year, or you can buy back issues and have them delivered at just the right time.
http://dreamsandnightmares.interstellardustmites.com/
It is not too early to get these troublesome holiday decisions out of the way.
David
http://dreamsandnightmares.interstellardustmites.com/
It is not too early to get these troublesome holiday decisions out of the way.
David
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Dreams & Nightmares 87 contents
Dreams & Nightmares 87
oldest extant SF & Fantasy poetry magazine.
CONTENTS
Randy Moore ................................................ cover
From the brain stem ......................................... .. 3
Dunwich Pastoral, Wade German .................................. 4
illo for “Dunwich Pastoral”, Steve Cooper ...................... 4
The Taxidermist’s Daughter, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff ............. 5
illo for ‘The taxidermist’s daughter”, Steve Cooper ........... 5
The Knave of Shadows, Bruce Boston ............................ 6
Page, illo, Steve Cooper ...................................... 6
A Dream of Simulacra, Ruth Berman ............................ 7
Mirror girl, illo, Steve Cooper ............................... 9
The Great Zombie Pyramid Scheme, Matt Betts ................... 9
Spirit of the Staircase, Robert Borski ....................... 10
illo, Randy Moore ............................................ 11
Wreck Diving the Starship, Robert Frazier .................... 12
Spaceman, illo, Steve Cooper ................................. 16
4 from an illo, assu ......................................... 16
The New Fast-Built Planet, Nathan Whiting .................... 17
Retrozoic, Alec Kowalczyk .................................... 18
Midnight Sonata, K. S. Hardy ................................. 19
$5 from the editor, or subscribe or order here:
http://dreamsandnightmares.interstellardustmites.com/
oldest extant SF & Fantasy poetry magazine.
CONTENTS
Randy Moore ................................................ cover
From the brain stem ......................................... .. 3
Dunwich Pastoral, Wade German .................................. 4
illo for “Dunwich Pastoral”, Steve Cooper ...................... 4
The Taxidermist’s Daughter, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff ............. 5
illo for ‘The taxidermist’s daughter”, Steve Cooper ........... 5
The Knave of Shadows, Bruce Boston ............................ 6
Page, illo, Steve Cooper ...................................... 6
A Dream of Simulacra, Ruth Berman ............................ 7
Mirror girl, illo, Steve Cooper ............................... 9
The Great Zombie Pyramid Scheme, Matt Betts ................... 9
Spirit of the Staircase, Robert Borski ....................... 10
illo, Randy Moore ............................................ 11
Wreck Diving the Starship, Robert Frazier .................... 12
Spaceman, illo, Steve Cooper ................................. 16
4 from an illo, assu ......................................... 16
The New Fast-Built Planet, Nathan Whiting .................... 17
Retrozoic, Alec Kowalczyk .................................... 18
Midnight Sonata, K. S. Hardy ................................. 19
$5 from the editor, or subscribe or order here:
http://dreamsandnightmares.interstellardustmites.com/
DN 87 and other updates
this issue is at the printer. When I laid it out, I realized I had some empty space. Some poems scheduled for number 88 have made it into number 87 (and some scheduled for 89 are now scheduled for 88). I am partially caught up on reading submissions. I should finish catching up tonight. Issue 90, the Apocalypse issue, is not quite full, but it's getting close.
land of the Giants
giant bacteria
are not much of a threat
silent phages
empty their DNA
needles in my flesh
are not much of a threat
silent phages
empty their DNA
needles in my flesh
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
but I am getting hungry
Vegetation on the move,
yuccas squatting in every empty lot
cacti thronging the mall
it just ain't worth it to go out
and nobody will deliver out here anymore
especially since the poison ivy
and kudzu are duking it out
in the carport
yuccas squatting in every empty lot
cacti thronging the mall
it just ain't worth it to go out
and nobody will deliver out here anymore
especially since the poison ivy
and kudzu are duking it out
in the carport
DN87 and other stuff
Here I am, laying out DN 87. It'll go to the printer this week. so you should get it late next week or the week after.
The Science Fiction Poetry Association is doing another Halloween poetry reading. I believe this will be number five. Every year there is a nice variety of creepy, scary, or melancholy poems presented. Poems for this year won't be up for another couple of weeks, but you can look at all the ones that are already there:
http://sfpoetry.com/halloween.html
I have a book of poetry coming out later this year from Sam's Dot. It includes poems written over most of the last 20 years plus a lot of new ones.
Well, I better get back to the layout.
The Science Fiction Poetry Association is doing another Halloween poetry reading. I believe this will be number five. Every year there is a nice variety of creepy, scary, or melancholy poems presented. Poems for this year won't be up for another couple of weeks, but you can look at all the ones that are already there:
http://sfpoetry.com/halloween.html
I have a book of poetry coming out later this year from Sam's Dot. It includes poems written over most of the last 20 years plus a lot of new ones.
Well, I better get back to the layout.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
jumping water eohippi!
the hippo with 1000 young
mated with the gerbil with 1,000,000 young
and many and varied were the issue
of their unholy union
chief among them
the water mouse
whose liaison with the
landwhale, its sibling,
was without issue
thanks be to Mendel
mated with the gerbil with 1,000,000 young
and many and varied were the issue
of their unholy union
chief among them
the water mouse
whose liaison with the
landwhale, its sibling,
was without issue
thanks be to Mendel
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