“Fickle Muses” magazine isn’t exactly “fickle” if they reject every poem that I send to them. That’s more like … “Adamant Muses.”
Oh, well. They were still nice about it.
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All Hail the New Flesh!!!
Dagda Publishing announced today that its next short story anthology, “All Hail the New Flesh,” will be released on January 25 for $11.99 (paperback) and $3.99 (Kindle).
The story collection, which follows the theme “technology gone mad,” will include my story, “At the End of the World, My Daughter Wept Metal.”
“From the steppe to central Spain, Europe echoes to the howl of the wolf” (UK Guardian)
A friend in Vegas sent me this link.
I can only assume it’s tough being a farmer under any circumstances, and it sounds as though they’re having a tough time of it. Honestly, though? It’s so much better than seeing this or any other animal being an endangered species.
http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2014/jan/04/wolf-pack-howls-from-steppe-to-madrid
From my note tonight to poet Dennis Villelmi:
“[A] failing of mine — perhaps my cardinal failing — is that I am fundamentally distracted by women. If God exists and wants us to be productive writers, Dennis, then why does populate the world with such fair and endearing diversions?”
“Snow Toward Evening” by Melville Cane
Suddenly the sky turned gray,
The day,
Which had been bitter and chill,
Grew soft and still.
Quietly
From some invisible blossoming tree
Millions of petals cool and white
Drifted and blew
Lifted and flew,
Fell with the falling night.
Which had been bitter and chill,
Grew soft and still.
Quietly
From some invisible blossoming tree
Millions of petals cool and white
Drifted and blew
Lifted and flew,
Fell with the falling night.
So my New Year’s resolution is less Facebooking and more writing. If you people see me on there too much, I want you to spank me.
Some of you more than others.
A New Year’s greeting.
They say that 13 is an unlucky number, but 2013 brought beautiful things and good people into my life.
This past year allowed me to find finally my voice, thanks largely to the encouragement of school pals and fellow writers. I’ve reunited with old friends and made valuable new ones, finding like minds and kindred spirits, hailing from both out of the past and the ever arriving present.
To all of you — in the green hills of Virginia, in the wide, dry places of the American west, in chilly Canada and at the pubs in distant Britain, I wish you the happiest, healthiest and brightest of New Years.
Dear Haiku Journal,
Stop e-mailing me after
Rejecting my poem!
Being a writer is validating. I get to meet people who are even more alcoholic than I am.
😀
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 