Thomas Zimmerman, Marly Youmans, Gail White, Timothy Murphy, Rick Mullin, David W. Landrum, Rose Kelleher, Clive James, Jan Iwaszkiewicz, Midge Goldberg, Richard Epstein, Ann Drysdale, Kevin Cutrer, Norman Ball, Gene Auprey, Mark Allinson, Mary Alexandra Agner.
I am the founding editor of Shit Creek Review, The Chimaera and The Flea, three poetry venues which between them have published nearly one thousand high-quality, mostly formalist poems as well as short stories, reviews, essays and poetry features. I have had no option but to resign from the Eratosphere poetry forum because of the activities there of a particular group of members who have consistently and forcefully attempted to dictate who I may or may not publish in my poetry magazines. More details on the Caratacus blog.
Now that I'm on board the Shit Creek canoe (and wielding a paddle... mostly on Nigel... he's incorrigible) Paul thinks I should post to the SCR blog. So here I am. Too bad I have nothing to say.
Ever since I came on board I've been teaching myself PHP and the ins and outs of Wordpress. Not that I need to do much for SCR, with the brilliant Peter Bloxsom working quietly behind the scenes. But it's a compulsion. The left side of my brain wants - no, needs - to be creative, in its sharp, clean, linear way. It knows poets don't think much of it, and it doesn't care; it's not very social. It's a nerd, but that can be a good thing. Old Lefty has integrity. It has principles, it has rigor. It also has its own sense of beauty, its own deep yearnings - O, when a piece of code works perfectly! When is a poem ever perfect? So sneer if you want to, murky-minded poets. Lefty loves the symmetry of curly braces, the humility of tags that are never greater-than they are less-than, the democratic nature of one foreach. It's a poet of the people, it sings as it works.
.....blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go...
Yes, me friend,
We deh a street again.
Yes, me friend, me good friend,
Dem say we free again.
The bars could not hold me;
Force could not control me now.
They try to keep me down,
But Jah put I around. Yeah!
Yes, I've been accused many a times
And wrongly abused, now.
Oh, but through the powers of the Most-High,
They've got to turn me loose.
Don't try to hold me up on this
bridge, now.
I've got to reach Mount Zion -
The highest region.
So if you a bull-bucka,
Let me tell you this -
I'm a duppy conqueror - conqueror.
Yes, me friend, me good friend,
We deh a street again.
Yes, me friend, me good friend,
Dem say we free again.
So don't try to cold me up
on this bridge, now.
I've got to reach Mount Zion -
The highest region.
So if you a bull-bucka,
Let me tell you this:
I'm a duppy conqueror - conqueror.
Yes, me friend,
Dem say we free again.
Yes, me friend,
Dem set we free again.
Yes, me friend, me good
friend...
My Domus Carataci personal blog on JournalSpace with years of posts was destroyed when JournalSpace's server crashed in 2007. Since then I haven't run a personal blog, channeling most of my energies into Shit Creek Review, The Chimaera and THE FLEA and their respective blogs. But some material fits better onto a personal blog than onto the more formal context of a literary magazine's blog; with that in mind I have revived Domus Carataci, now on Blogspot, and renamed it I, Caratacus. I will update it from time to time, whenever Bloggina, the Muse of Bloggers, inspires me.