So the post last night about my cooking injuries led to a bunch of recipe requests–would you all prefer, when I talk about my culinary adventures, that I post the recipes? Those from last nights are in the comments to that entry.

I’m saving my main Confluence comments for my column this week, but it was a reasonably good con, though my reading was scheduled opposite the big event of the con, a Terry Pratchett fanplay, so there were only six or seven people there. But we made do, and no one seemed to want to leave afterwards. However, the big stuff that the con brought to my mind will go to Two Headed Cat, so you’ll have to wait.

I did decide, through much reading of poetry, that I ought to embrace the title of SF Poetry, one I have always frowned at because I’m not an SF writer, and science fiction is just not what I do, and I’m tired of being asked to assume the other F is there when it’s totally not. However. I have decided that really, actually and truly, SF Poetry stands for Serious Fucking Poetry, and I’m all over that noise. SFP! SFP! Attica!

Anyway. Can anyone tell me what the edgy, experimental, gorgeous-prose stuff is in SF these days? What are the City of Saints and Madmen and Moonwise of science fiction? I’m deeply curious and the very SF oriented con has made me wonder. I’ve read more SF than I let on, and I can turn on a dime at a con like that and stop talking about Tolkien and start talking about PKD, but I don’t know what the new gestalt is, and I want to. Somebody guide me.

Finally, should you need some CMV today, my poem Helen in the Underworld is up at Lone Star Stories. It’s got drugs and Greek women. Also, Mythic Delirium was kind enough to choose The Descent of the Corn Queen of the Midwest as their featured poem this issue, and it is up on the site with an mp3 of me reading it. Enjoy!

It’s been quite a week poetry-wsie for me–I’ve sold six poems in the last eight days or so. I’m tired. And slightly afraid that when the time comes for a new collection, I won’t be able to find a publisher for it, since Prime isn’t doing poetry collections anymore, few, if any small presses, are, and mainstream houses aren’t interested in speculative poetry. Eep. I guess that’s the way it goes.

Back to the page mines with me!

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