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It's February 16, and I'm reading Marlena Chertock's "My Body is as Old as Precambrian Earth"

Sometimes should be haunting, like this:
"Coral will last
until homo sapiens
bleach me."

Today it's the 17th of February. I'm reading Tlotlo Tsamaase's "I Will Be Your Grave" (Strange Horizons)

Quite a dark , but also quite an intricate love poem. On that note, I also read our poet's short story "Eclipse our Sins" today, which was published in Clarkesworld. Both are worthy of your time.

On the 18th day of February, I'm assigned to read "Tiny Studies (Particle 14)" by Kathleen Balma.

Tag your grade, I'm a solid B+.

For February 19 of this year 2020, I'm reading Nisa Malli's titled "Autologous Transplant"

And I'm fucking haunted by this. Look at this:
your stories
we are the knife

Amazing about flesh cyborgs. More Frankensteiny poetry for y'all.

For February 20, 2020, I read a by Billy Collins called "The Future"

It's been one of those days too. Thinking about how future selves reminisce about now.

It's February 21, I'm late for a paper I need to send out. But I still read a poem, and you should too.

Today's is Liu Chengyu's "Pillage, Thundersnow"

For the Day 22 of the Month 2 of the Year 2020, I read Greg Beatty's "Positronic Dreams"

This reminds me of discussions I've had with my mentor about Aristotelian philosophy.

For February 23, I read Shannon Connor Winward's "When Brothers Go Wandering Off"

This verse stopped me in my tracks as I read: "But I will not cut off my finger to give you a key."

It's Day 55 of 2020. Here's a by Megan Arkenberg titled "Six Things the Owl Said"

I'm thinking mostly of Stanza II, about the flower without earth, the one drinking water through a rootless stem. And because of that stanza I'm thinking of humans.

For the 25th of February, I spent the day wishing I could change things or myself. So today's poem is about things like that.

"After the Changeling Incantation" is a poem written by John Philip Johnson and published in Strange Horizons in 2014.

My 57th reading of the year is a by Jennifer Ruth Jackson titled "An Ambassador Recollects Earth"

The final stanza ("I watched all of you / Guiltlessly throw it away / With too many words") is making me think of what it would look like after we're long gone as a species.

February 27 is another day, and another day is a reading day. So I'm reading Ann K. Schwader's "To Theia"

This one is quite a lovely one. Something we ask ourselves about living in a different place, but instead an entire planet.

For February 28, I'm reading/listening to yesterday's episode of the Slowdown podcast. The is "Strayberries and Cream" by Jeff Dolven.

What alternatives to the Turing Test can you imagine?

For Leap Day of 2020, I'm reading Linda D. Addison's "Things That Earth No Longer Bears"

The starting verse is quite a thing: "Existence observed, without passion, the brief time of humans"

First of March, and I'm reading Bogi Takács's "Spatiotemporal Discontinuity"

A lot catches my attention in this , both the embodiment, but especially the existential there:
"There is the before. …
There is / the after. …
there is silence."

On March 2, 2020, I'm reading Nikoline Kaiser's "Ode to an Asexual"

I like the final stanza, it's nice to read quite an erotic that is not sexual for a change.

It's March 3, and I read Margaret Rhee's "Dear Love"

Many things are beautiful in this , most importantly it's depiction of queer love. The first stanza pushes beautifully against the it gets better ideology that took over for a few years. For that I'm glad I'm reading it today.

Today, on March Fourth, I read Beth Cato's "Other Worlds to Save"

I tend to dislike politicians, bureaucrats, and the like, but I really liked the sense of playing games during the downtime of negotiations. I feel like I'm doing this: endless job applications, with some downtime overrun with melancholy and games.

Today is the Fifth of March, and I read a poem by Emory Noakes called "In Which My Grandma Kicks Ass and Takes Names During the Zombie Apocalypse"

The title is long, and the is great.

Day 66 of 2020, a Friday, I'm reading Michael T. Smith's "Super Mario; Or, Everything I Needed to Learn About Relationships"

Are you like the rest of us, "with a body that maps the march of time, has the stamp of capitalism"?

For the seventh, of the third month, of the 2020th year of the common era, I'm reading Ann K. Schwader's "Deep Solar Minimum Blues"

The last two verses sound just about right to me: "Our sun is at its quietest in years, / Yet all is not as calm as it appears."

For March 8, 2020, I read Leah Bobet's "The Death of the Gods"

I don't know what to make of this poem. I do know that we do hold a lot of grief for people we hold dear who turn out not to be what they could have been in our eyes.

9 of March of 2020, and I read this curious piece of by A.D. Harper titled "unknown search terms"

Much to say about this poem, it's absolutely lovely, about the curious friendly tresspassers who leave a note and read your books.

It is March Third 2020. I'm reading Cam Kelly's "Playing Fetch with the Grim"

I especially love the body transformation theme that goes along with the Grim as playful drooling dog theme.

I'm a bit late for the March 11 reading, but this is what I read shortly past the midnight deadline: Mayra Paris's "New York, 2009"

Although I didn't grow up in New York, I did spend the best times of my 2010s in that city and I do feel that I've marked the city blocks "like melanistic push pins"

For March 12 2020, I am reading "The Wooden Box", a by Annie Neugebauer.

I had a friend who had a scar similar to the zipper described in the poem. They regularly joked about hiding things in there.

Friday the 13th in March of 2020, and I'm reading Emily Smith's "Such Monstrous Births"

Watch out for the content warnings in this one, it's a particularly heavy read. Also do not search for an image of the condition if you're squeamish.

It's Pi Day of 2020, I'm reading Andrei Dorian Gheorghe's "Cosmic Agglomeration"

It's lovely and there is no such thing as "too many for a poor reader!"

March 15, 2020, and I'm reading E.F. Schraeder's "Procrastination (A Lullaby)"

Eerie to read this while thinking of social distancing and quarantines.

It's March 16 2020. I'm reading "Electrical Symbols" by M.C. Childs

This is a curious , take a look at it for image fragments, or listen to it in the podcast version for a curious recording of the reading.

On 17 of March of 2020, I'm reading Ada Hoffmann's "Who Do You Think You Are"

That opening stanza was just wow: "You ask as if there is shame in thinking, as if I am sure of my thoughts,
but I think what I can scarcely say."

For March 18, 2020, I'm reading "Intergalactic UPS" by Jeffrey Johannes

The seems like a timely read for me, things have been arriving really late in the mail (and returned to sender also really late, from last November and December!)

The time's been running on March 19, so I'm reading a about time travel by S.R. Tombran called "A Tiime Traveler's Field Notes"

It feels right to be reading this poem. Some of its verses sound like aphorisms: "The wise man builds his house nowhere."

It's a bit late for Day 80 of 2020, but I read "Illiteracy" by Scott E. Green and Herb Kauderer.

This is such a peculiar , talking about a specific type of that surely the humans will never understand. It comes at a peculiar time for me too, spending my time wishing I could be teaching some media literacy to relatives.

For March 21 2020 I am reading Don Raymond's titled "The Billion-Year Day"

The poem is just beautiful. Any ideas what the black oasis descried in the poem? I've got a running theory it's a SMBH, maybe Sagittarius A*?

For March 22 2020, I'm reading/remembering Mina Florea's "Remember"

The poem reminds me of a moment last summer when a friend described the fall of the tyrant in the Romanian Revolution.

March 23, 2020, I read a by Holly Lyn Walrath called "A Terrible Meat-Eating God"

This blocktext poem is horrific and vivid, but I loved most the final piece of it:
"only the hush of waves and the thin promise of morning in the garden of eating."

It's been a day y'all, so I'm reading quite late (for March 24) a by Patrick Armstrong, published in Star*Line:

"their language sounds like knives
on bones; I’m glad
the translator’s dead"

Quite dramatic and I (as a translator) will think about this for quite some time.

For March 25 I'm reading Mari Ness's "Gretel's Bones"

This re-telling of the fairy tale is just amazing.


For Day 26 of Month 3 of Year 2020, I'm reading S. Qiouyi Lu's "Inside the Ironheart"

I needed something to calm me down and here the final part of this does that:
"lightyears from Earth
Guanyin still hears
the cries of the world"

Last Friday of March (phew!), and I'm reading a by Terese Mason Pierre "A New Face"

This makes me think of a famous singer who died during WW2 in Egypt, and of small minority faiths in the region that believe in the transmigration of the souls after deaths, and if Asmahan was returned to us.

On a Saturday, 3/28, I'm reading Scott T. Hitchison's "Interpose: A Love "

Prepare yourself, this is love in the eschatological sense.

It's March 29 or Day 89, and I read a by Gabriel Ascencio Morales titled "Abstraction"

Take not of the visual in the piece. I also really recommend the podcast form by Ciro Faienza which has quite amazing sound design:

Today's (3/30) is by Saudamini Deo called "From, To"

What is it that you do on boring train rides? The poem reminded me of how much I've ridden the bus between Binghamton and New York, and how many times I've witnessed things go wrong between these cities.

For the End of March, I'm reading Alicia Cole's "The Far Western Regions of the Archipelago are Where the Dragons Live"

I've spent the day coding a manuscript (possibly long forgotten): "There is no darkness in death. Just a long chain of islands." Is this what manuscripts/texts/words feel when they are forgotten?

Happy April 92nd day of 2020, I'm reading Ameé Hennig's "My Unborn Babies"

I've been reading a hard science fiction novel with a focus on a genetic bottleneck, which led me to looking for a relevant . I wasn't successful, but I ended up finding this poem about Andromeda joining the Milky Way.

April 2nd, of 2020, I'm reading Mary McMyne's "The Mother Searches for her Own Story"

I'm going to spend quite some time thinking about those who's stories were abandoned by the writers.

For first Friday of April, I'm reading "Syndrome" by Ugonna-Ora Owoh.

The most curious part of this is the curses previous generations place upon ours: the curse of inability to speak the truth.

April 4, 2020, and I'm reading "Death Poem" by C.J. Miles.

I'm still bitter about not moving to Detroit and for some reason this was soothing to read.

For the Fifth of the Fourth, I'm reading "Without Prayer or the Place in the Forest" by Sonya Taaffe.

Look at those amazing two verses of good :
"behind all this dry ink
is still white and black fire"

For April 6, I'm reading Lore Graham's "Absence"

This poem stopped me in my tracks, particularly the second-to-last stanza. Sometimes memory cheats us, and sometimes we sit there and wonder how our past remembers us.

Today's is A. Laraque-Ho's "The Uncertainty Principle"

I quite appreciated the sentiments I felt about the worms not caring about endings, and gravity as a choke.

Day 99 of 2020, I'm reading D.A. Xiaolin Spires' "behind the self-help section"

Is there a better description of the self-help book sections?

For April 9 and the Hundredth, I'm reading Jessy Randall's about Mary Agnes Chase:

After this I ended up reading her biography seems quite interesting, since I wasn't aware of the botany connection.

For April 10, and to keep it level: Sionnain Buckley's "All Muddle" is the I'm reading today.

This tangentially reminds me of how in Islamic cosmology you have two scribe angels who record your life's deeds.

It's April 11, I'm reading Deborah L. Davitt's curious "Unseen Mirror"

It's not everyday one come's across a palindromic poem, especially one done so well.

A bit after April 12, and I'm reading "Patroclus" by Mary Soon Lee

Maybe Mary Soon Lee probably didn't quite intend me to read this this way, but as the saying goes: "[STEP UP. BOW. TAKE YOUR TURN. AND] BE GAY DO CRIMES"

It is April 13, and I'm reading Shuyi Yin's "Growing Chair"

Back when I lived in Binghamton, I had a chair too that I never sit on. (It's now being sat on in a school home room, I heard)

April 14, and I'm enjoying Davian Aw's "Job Interview"

After witnessing the unsurprising collapse of the academic job market, I'm thoroughly enjoying this answer to "Are you capable of handling yourself interculturally?"

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Wandering Shop

The Wandering Shop is a Mastodon instance initially geared for the science fiction and fantasy community but open to anyone. We want our 'local' timeline to have the feel of a coffee shop at a good convention: tables full of friendly conversation on a wide variety of topics. We welcome everyone who wants to participate, so long as you're willing to abide by our code of conduct.