SAFARI seems to no longer work
for comments...use another browser?

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Another forthcoming book

I've known about this one for a little while and have posted some information and answered questions on facebook, so I suppose it's time to slap up a poster here as well.

The Foliate Head -
Stanza Press, UK
A collection of formal poems with cover and division pages by Clive Hicks-Jenkins. This one is already mighty pretty--the interior art is strange and lovely. The title is apt; there are an awful lot of leaves, groves, dryads, green men, forest meetings, and more in this book.

The other forthcoming books are:

The Throne of Psyche - Mercer University Press, July 2011
This one is a plump collection of poetry, including the blank verse recollections of Psyche--a close-to-final version of the title poem (as well as others by me) may be found at Mezzo Cammin.

Glimmerglass - P. S. Publishing, UK, 2011
A house set in a hill, a failed painter, a resurrection, a labyrinth and minotaur, a murder, a flood, an embodied muse . . . This is the wildest of dreams, set in an alternate Cooperstown. You definitely haven't read this one before.

Maze of Blood - P. S. Publishing, UK, 2012
I've felt a kind of weird kinship with the unfortunate Robert Howard, pulp writer. (Left out the "E." because his name is under copyright. He wouldn't like that, you know.) All the deep South heat of childhood, the neurological strangeness (for I feel quite sure he was neurologically strange), the childhood certainty of what he would do . . . he could be a long-lost cousin of mine. Although the names are changed, this story is clearly inspired by his life. And I had great fun making up faux-Howard episodes for "his" writing, plums embedded in the sad pudding of his life.


  1. How do you do it, Marly? I am looking forward to the book of poems especially!

  2. This morning I feel fried, so I don't know how either. Between track, wrestling club, play practice, a track-shoe-shopping outing, and major projects and tests, my kids did not have enough time yesterday.

    So neither did I.

    Sleep is lovely.


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.