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, poems, and stories, as well as the occasional fantasy. D. G. Myers: "A writer who has more resolutely stood her ground against the tide of literary fashion would be difficult to name."
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SAFARI seems to no longer work
Thursday, June 08, 2017
Poems: new online
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.
Thank you, Tim! I'm glad to see some shares and links popping up, as I think the first magazine (being new) is not that easy to find as yet.
ReplyDeleteThanks! So nice to have more to add to the "Prufrock" newsletter and Facebook and twitter shares--the more the merrier, it is ever said....
ReplyDelete"Nancy at the River" strongly evoked for me that powerful scene in Little Jordan (whether intentionally or not). Thanks for the beautiful words, haunting yet hallowed. jk
ReplyDeleteOh! I hadn't thought of that at all. So definitely not intentional.... Thanks for coming up with that linkage!
DeleteAn alternate fellow. The actuality is no doubt mundane and, in any case, the background is academia which I wot not of. But my sense of mischief is not restrained. On which days do you choose to be the alternate of a fellow and how is this manifest?
ReplyDeleteWithout thinking it through I wondered if the switch was limited simply to a pair of dusty campaign trousers or if you went the whole hog: a chalk-stripe navy-blue three-piece from Grieves of Savile Row topped by a bowler from Lock's (which the French confusingly call a melon and your lot, even more confusingly, call a derby. Which you deliberately mispronounce.)
And then I realised that an alternate fellow would, of course, be a lady and you'd be wearing something made of dimity. And, perhaps, you'd need lacing up.
You must realise my ignorance is wilful.
An alternate is normally nothing--a bone with no dimity bow. But in this case it was something, as they invited me anyway. And meanwhile I had gone to Paris in the time I'd saved to go, if I became a fellow. So this is a lonely instance in my life of eating my cake and having it too. I find that rather marvelous.
DeleteI'm afraid the real fellows were not dressed in your fantastic wardrobe. Alas. But I am amused.