Iron Horse Literary Review just released their fantastic April issue and it’s chock full of gorgeous poems for National Poetry Month. I was asked to contribute some photos and a description of my work space. It was an honor and a lot of fun to justify my junk-collecting.
It feels like one more happy sign of spring that book reviews for The Witch of Eye have started popping up here and there in the world.
I had such a nice time reading for University of Arizona MFA Program’s Distinguished Visitor Series alongside Paisley Rekdal. I read an essay about Lisbey Nypan and another how obsessed witch hunters were with spoiled milk. We touched on some deeply weird shit about the tilberi.
I’m so grateful to largehearted boy for inviting me to make a The Witch of Eye playlist.
In “The Invention of Mothers,” an essay from The Witch of Eye that is close to my heart, I wrote about Rhiannon, the fairy queen best known for having called forth the Alder Rhiannon, those three magical birds who sing so beautifully they send the living to sleep and raise the dead from their slumber.
So of course a The Witch of Eye playlist must include Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon.”
Happy Valentine’s Day! Last night I launched The Witch of Eye in the good company of writers, friends, and inspirations who each shared a love spell
The Witch of Eye officially launches on Feb. 16, but it’s received some generous early reviews, which I’m very grateful for.
I began my writing life as a poet, which means I think the purpose of writing is as much to disrupt sense, rearrange sense, and reimagine sense as it is to make sense. To that end, I find agrammatical structures as interesting as grammatical ones.
Happy Yule, everybody! Thanks for following along with my Advent Calendar of Witches. In the spirit of light and gratitude for the abundances of even this hard year, I want to offer a list of witch and witch-adjacent writers and artists.
My formula for understanding witchcraft has been witch = accusation + fire, but no one ever burned Marie Laveau for anything. The whole city of New Orleans, they say, came to her for help or advice at some time or another. And yet she was never hauled before a court. This contradicts everything I have learned about witchcraft, about the cruelty in people afraid their power is slipping, and about the operations of 19th century slaveholding societies. Nevertheless, the story the archives tell about the charmed work accomplished by Marie Laveau is clear. Her subterfuge in the service of social justice took the form of uncorrupted generosity.
This is a hard year to be approaching the longest night. So I offer as a balm the story of the fairy queen Rhiannon.