If you’re blackly fascinated by my mad attempts at scribbling, I’ve started a new page here at the site for my poetry publications in 2021. You can find it right here:
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Trying to select a new author photo.
Hey, if there’s a bandwagon, I’ll jump on it.
“The Mayor” from “Basel’s Dance of Death,” Hieronymus Hess, circa 1849
Lithographic plates. After Matthaeus Merian’s 17th century drawings.
The Roanoke Times Published My Latest Letter to the Editor …
… this one about the January 6th coup attempt.
Bear in mind, please, that this was written the evening of January 6th — long before the more frightening details of the coup emerged.
Peeking Cat Literary publishes “The Rough, Violet Stone”
There’s a brand new poem of mine up over at Peeking Cat Literary — its title is “The Rough, Violet Stone” and you can find it right here.
I’m especially pleased because the poem was also selected for the next Peeking Cat Literary Anthology, scheduled for release in October 2021. Peeking Cat Literary is the new incarnation of the former Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine, which recently returned after a one-year hiatus.
Thanks once again to Editor Sam Rose! I am honored indeed to see my poem both online today and scheduled for the print anthology.
Variant cover to “Detective Comics” #999, John Byrne, 2019
DC Comics.
Spillwords Press features “Contagion is a Despot Poet”
I am honored today to see my poem “Contagion is a Despot Poet” published by Spillwords Press. You can find it right here.
Thanks, as always, to Editor Dagmara K. for allowing me to share my voice at Spillwords Press!
“Memento Mori,” by Jan Saenredam, late 16th century
Hello, Moon.
How kind for you to look in on me. Yes, I snapped awake —
a behavior borne of fateful days and the mind’s midnight murmurs.
But I am okay.
Things are uncertain here, along the courses of this murky earth, as the sun’s unfaithful light will shine on other places. The paths of all our lives are unraveled, as stirred to near-disorder as the roads I barely see beyond my window, curved and folded around the varied, dim hills where all my neighbors sleep.
But you know that by now, Observer, I am sure.
As old as you are, I know you’ve learned to cherish the charted arc of your predictable light.
I’ve got such an acid wit, I’ve given myself smartburn.
I know this is an objectively terrible joke, but I’m still proud of it.
I’ve totally got real heartburn, though. (I can only imagine the state of the world has had something to do with that.) And that’s a lot less funny. It’s … also objectively terrible.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 