It is hard to know for sure from which font they surge, what comes first—thoughts or feelings—or if they are conceived together, and always, or only sometimes, live in tandem. Hard to know where they reside once born, and why the me-ness of them is suddenly brimful at dawn as the last owl calls give... Continue Reading →
I heard the Earth rumbling: it was the hearts of millions of fairies turning to stone and thudding on the ground like persistent, regular blows from a hammer. They were dying in their successive droves as daylight reached one time zone after another around the Planet.
Incarnadine was not the word, but it was the word from which we wrung the bloody red that we needed in the words that thrust the end of the novel into the universe with all that which preceded it. It is a pity my Macbeth faltered just when it would have been nice to toss... Continue Reading →