Seek Giacometti’s “The Palace at 4 a.m.” Go back two hours. See towers and curtain walls of matchsticks, marble, marbles, light, cloud at stasis. Walk in. The beggar queen is dreaming on her throne of words…You have arrived at the web home of Marly Youmans, maker of novels, poetry collections, and stories, as well as the occasional fantasy for younger readers.
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Friday, September 02, 2011
New poems at Lucid Rhythms
Somehow I keep forgetting to post links to new poems online. Here are title and openings from two (from The Book of the Red King manuscript) at Lucid Rhythms, edited by that energetic poet, writer, and editor, David W. Landrum.
Just for fun, I'll slap in a few pictures from my family home in Cullowhee, North Carolina.
***
The Silver Cord
The Fool has no mastery of his mind
But is as helpless as a skittles top,
Reeling drunkenly from mystical
The Yellow Day
The Fool is whittling doors for fairy houses
Lapped in moss and sheathed in silver birch,
While children gather close to watch the knife
6 comments:
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.
Wonderful. These poems bear repeating, and feel already like old old friends.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Robbi--
ReplyDeleteI may have tweaked them a bit since then... I have been charging about that manuscript, slapping and slashing and so on.
Oh! your beloved cardinal flower!!
ReplyDeleteLove seeing all the photos
and reading more of the dear, dear Fool.
Love the poems, the fool, and your so lovely home! The green lushness actually looks like it could be around here, on the coast of BC.
ReplyDeleteAll the ones I planted here have finally died out, zephyr. Might have to get a new infusion...
ReplyDeleteI've decided to send the Fool poems out next spring, so I am underway on the burnishing.
Oops, missed marja-leena--
ReplyDeleteThanks. My mother is a grand gardener and takes good care of her acres.
The Blue Ridge has been quite water-deprived for years, but it still manages to be green and misty.