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Friday, February 03, 2017


Sign up for The Rollipoke News. 
An occasional newsletter--
"news of upcoming books (fiction and poetry by Marly Youmans, both new and reprints), 
public events, strange happenings, lost words, etc."
And the occasional interesting freebie. 

Rollipoke: a coarse hempen cloth once considered 
"fit to be used as bags or wrappers for rolls or bales of finer goods"
(Robert Forby, The Vocabulary of East Anglia, 1830.)

Now I want you to pretend that the sign-up form is
on another page entirely because that's what savvy people do,
the ones who know what they are doing.
They hide the form, and for some strange psychological reason,
people prefer it to be hidden on a second page.
Therefore I bid you to pretend the form
is hidden beneath a rollipoke!

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p. s.
Here's a new "Women in Horror Month" post at Weird Fiction Review
"Drunk Bay" popping up again...
Nice to be in company with Leena Krohn, Kelly Link,
Edith Wharton, and more.


  1. Great idea! I hope you get thousands of "subscribers." I look forward to Rollipoke!

    1. I've said that I would do it for ages... And haven't! So, finally.

  2. But is Rollipoke merely the medium or actually the message?

    Fascinated at the way you are able to bestride a world which includes - at its extremes - matters of the mind and the surly demands of commerce. da Vinci brought up to date, although you've yet to improve on the jumping umbrella that was his suggestion for a helicopter.

    1. Jumping umbrella! Life needs more jumping umbrellas....

      I don't think that I'm very good at commerce, really, though I am mindful of what I owe my publishers.

    2. When on earth did I write the above? I asked myself. Had someone been faking my inimitable style? The points raised seemed faintly familiar but dim, like one of my report cards from secondary school back in the forties. And then I saw the date and my agonising took a different turn: had my abilities deteriorated in the intervening twenty months?

      None of which need disturb you. My competence may be sliding into oblivion but my sentiments towards Rollipoke and, of course, The Palace at 2 AM, remain positive and unchanged. As if I were in direct contact with a descendant of Catherine de' Medici, but without the politics. I am a vassal at your court, a third-rate lute player, listening to the high-grade chat and waiting for the call ("Time for a little Gesualdo, I think. Oh no, he's yet to be born.") which I know will never come.

    3. I fished you out of spam and then could not find the comment... at last, here you are! And not third-rate at all... Ever-interesting, ever-entertaining, ever-surprising.

  3. Somehow she agreed." UH-oh! Had to happen. And now I have to go up to the studio!


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.