Youmans (pronounced like 'yeoman' with an 's' added) is the best-kept secret
among contemporary American writers. --John Wilson, editor, Books and Culture Marly Youmans is a novelist and poet out of sync with the times
but in tune with the ages. --First Things

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Twittage, during which my brain was replaced by cloud--

Vignette of lake for Thaliad by Clive Hicks-Jenkins
I appear to have exhausted the contents of my head while on twitter this morning. And have nothing more to say to the world. Meanwhile, I must go finish packing up bookplates for Thaliad...

Cloud and ignorance appear to be the order of the day. I believe the dawn cloud must have crept inside my head. I believe that my brain may have been replaced by vapor.

However, I still manage to like this quote and to be astonished (California friends, watch out!) by the article it came from: "It has been said that an actuary is someone who really wanted to be an accountant but didn't have the personality for it" (Kessler, WSJ.)

Morning twittage, since I have naught else to say:

  • The universe so big, so much to fathom... But children say wonderful things out of insufficient knowledge. 
  • Contemplating the well of my own ignorance. It is very great and very blue. 
  • Believe that refers to the scattering of sleep across the globe. Dark conspiracy of the Sopora Sleep company. @DeathZen @MrsDarkly 
  • Recollecting my daughter at 5: "Have you ever heard of a five-year-old teenager?" @saladinahmed 
  • Could we quit using "beyond words," Twit-buddies? Very few things are so, and usually not the ones we say are. 
  • Recommending Richard Krawiec and Jacar: @jacarpress.
  • Cloud that has filled the village nudges my cheek, creeps inside my mouth when I speak, breathes me. Odd, lovely morning. White smudge sun. 
  • The birds drag long streaming paths through the cloud that has filled up the village. 
  • The dog is trying mightily to bark to bits the cloud that used to be a yard. 
  • The yard is cloud. The lake is cloud. Cloud is snared in the rose canes. Infinite confine.
Meeting me elsewhere: Excerpts from 2012 books (A Death at the White Camellia OrphanageThaliadThe Foliate Head) at ScribdThaliad at Phoenicia Publishing. (Thaliad is on sale during Poetry Month. Hardcover is only available through Phoenicia, and the paperback anywhere.) See page tabs above for clips, links to reviews, and information on those brand new books plus The Throne of Psyche from 2011, and more. 


  1. I think it's time you came back to Atlanta. We can go down south to the monastery and have a picnic by the water and let the ducks harass us and enjoy the warm and the sun and buy fudge from the monks and just be :) Friendly beagle, cats, husband, and I await if ever you want!

  2. Oh, that sounds lovely and doable for someone with cloud for brain. I am going to NC in August... But shall be galloping around doing events in the Triangle and WNC.

    Maybe I should do something in Atlanta?


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.