Million-Year Elegies: Tyrannosaurus

Hot on the heels of my last poetry publication, Uncanny Magazine issue #12 is out, featuring my poem “Million-Year Elegies: Tyrannosaurus.”

This (in late 2014) was the first “Million-Year Elegies” poem I wrote. I already knew it would be part of a series, even though I had no idea yet what the rest of the series would look like. So far, that instinct has proven correct.

It’s available now if you want to buy the whole issue; otherwise, it will be free to read online starting on October 4th.

New Poem: Roar

August. August. Where did August go?

It went to some pretty good places. Including Finland for a while, and some big steps careerwise, and a new relationship. I kind of disappeared off the writerly Internet, though, and all sorts of small tasks I’ve been neglecting because of the awesome have piled up. I suppose this is just one of those things that happens at times.

Anyway, here I am, with a new publication in inkscrawl. “Roar”, a tiny poem about a magical rock concert, is here.

Million-Year Elegies: Edmontonia

Mythic Delirium 3.1 is out today, and my poem, “Million-Year Elegies: Edmontonia” is in it, along with work by Jane Yolen, Lynette Mej√≠a, Yukimi Ogawa, Benjanun Sriduangkaew, and others. You can purchase the issue and read it immediately, or you can wait until August, when “Edmontonia” and some poem notes will be free to read online.

“Edmontonia” is a companion piece to last month’s “Hallucigenia” – hopefully, there will be quite a few others forthcoming in this series.

Million-Year Elegies: Hallucigenia

My poem, “Million-Year-Elegies: Hallucigenia“, is up in Liminality, Issue #8.

This poem is about a creature from the Cambrian explosion. It is also about perception and belief, and being the object of flawed perception. It’s the first in a series/project of many different poems that I have been writing about ancient creatures.

Although my poem has nothing to do with it, Issue #8 of Liminality is dedicated to the victims of the mass shooting at Pulse Nightclub in Orlando.

New poem: The Raising of Lazarus

In the Spring 2016 issue of “Breath & Shadow”:

http://www.abilitymaine.org/breath/spr16h.html

This is a poem I came up with in the summer of 2014, when recovering from a bad mental health breakdown.

It’s also the most overtly religious poem I’ve ever written, though I hesitate to call it a Christian poem; it is not particularly concerned with any specific articles of Christian doctrine. Then again, poems get associated with other religions without being dogmatic at all. So. Whatever. Enjoy.

Kraken Quatrain

After a long wait, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine #62 is out, and with it, my poem, “Kraken Quatrain”. Which is what it says on the can. In iambic tetrameter and everything.

I seriously doubt that someone is going to buy a whole issue of a magazine just because of a 4-line poem, but if you were considering buying an issue of ASIM anyway, perhaps this will sweeten the deal.

Octopi Viewing a Submersible

I have a new poem up in Strange Horizons, “Octopi Viewing a Submersible“. I also recorded an audio version of the poem, which can be listened to on the Strange Horizons October podcast.

This poem was an experiment in Germanic alliterative verse. I didn’t expect much to come of it, and am thrilled that it’s found such a good home with such good company.

Imaginarium 4

I’m late announcing this – I’ve been at a conference – but the Imaginarium: the Best Canadian Speculative Writing series is one I always watch with great interest every year. Once, in 2012, I got in with my story “Centipede Girl”. Since then I’ve had honourable mentions – two or three a year – but no bites.

Except now I am pleased to announce that Imaginarium 4 will feature not one, not two, but THREE of my poems from 2014. (“Self-Portrait as Bilbo Baggins“, “The Parable of the Supervillain”, and “The Mermaid at Sea World”.)

About that conference. I’m still at it. I presented an academic paper this morning – the second this year to have my real name attached as first author – and my supervisors say that once I remembered to slow down my speech to the rate of a normal Earthling, it went perfectly. I am now on a break between the parts of the conference that interest me, sitting at a small green desk in a high, garrety hotel room, typing on my computer, watching the rain and lightning outside and playing opera. It’s this odd mix of cosiness and spookiness which feels peculiarly writerly to me.

Getting my writing life back together, after the awful summer last year, is still a work in progress, which is why I’ve been quiet; but it’s coming along. On a day like today, I can’t help but feel encouraged.