Youmans (pronounced like 'yeoman' with an 's' added) is the best-kept secret among contemporary American writers. --John Wilson, editor, Books and Culture

Monday, October 31, 2011

"The Book of the Red King" poems at Pirene's Fountain


Three new poems from The Book of the Red King are up today at Pirene's Fountain:  "Blue Sky, Blue Tree," "The Yoke," and "Fool's Talismans." My penpal Corey Mesler also has poems in this issue.

10 comments:

  1. Wonderful Marly! I especially like the 2nd one!

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  2. Vivid and sharp! That tree of eyes! That white throat sky!

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  3. Robbi,

    Good! Glad you liked them.

    I was just talking to Mary B. about them... Now she is asking me about buzzards--surely I have included buzzards? Don't remember. Maybe. Perhaps I will have to add a buzzard somewhere in the series in her honor.

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  4. Laura,

    Glad you liked! It's always fine to please a painter...

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  5. I like these very much, so full of images that conjure a wonderfully illustrated storybook in the mind's eye and music in the ear.

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  6. marja-leena,

    Lovely to get a compliment in the middle of talking to college billing offices! Which are nothing like a storybook and not a bit musical...

    Also lovely to have artists like one's poems. That's something special!

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  7. Maybe Mary will have to write something with buzzards, which, though very Halloween, don't strike me as being at home in any of the poems of yours I have seen.

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  8. "The Book of the Red King" has a dark forest segment, where there are birds and a dead body. But I don't think there are buzzards. I have used buzzards in fiction--one day some buzzard floundered out of the snow in front of me and marched down the street, me following. I used that memory somewhere. "The Wolf Pit," maybe.

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  9. Perhaps that is one book of yours where buzzards (vultures, by another name) might be at home, with the battlefield not far off.

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  10. Yep. I'll have to check the Red King poems to see if I have any...

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Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.