There was a dream within a dream and inside
the outer dream lay a rounded piece of white
marble of perfect circular dimension.
The dreamer called this marble that resembled
a grain of Grecian marble, “Eva Knachte,”
who was blown into the dream by the considerate
rage of night.

Her name evoking night became a marble pebble,
the land on which she rested was the shore
of the sea that washed over her and changed
her lineaments into classic marble, a miniature
being, yet perfect in this dream, her size
determined by the summer storm with which
I struggled and seized the marble.

from The Screen of Distance

I just read this and am posting it here for affection–the way a kid who finds something runs to show it to others for the affection it might bring to her inner body, the one made of sweets and their gatherers.

You left some seeds on my touchpad, thanks. Oh, one just fell under the F2 key. I wish a cabbage or whatever it is would grow beneath my keys, popping them all off by pressing from underneath, like the keys are squares of concrete sidewalk and this is a disreputable neighborhood we’re in called Touchpad.

My favorite name for a literary magazine is NOON. NOON is really a great name–it’s a palindrome two ways, horizontally and vertically. When you are on your head and you read the word NOON, it is the same as when you are standing or sitting, when you are not trying to read things while you are on your head. It does not matter which way the spine is when NOON is on a shelf. Even if the spine is facing the wall, NOON would still look like NOON, if only you could see through objects. So much of the day gets rounded into ‘noon’. If you wake up at 11:24, you could tell people you woke up at noon. The part of the day that you do until you feel like the day has to end is talked about in relation to noon. Things fold up into noon. You cast no shadow at noon when you are at a theoretical place, the equator. Diane Williams’ writing collapses into itself sometimes when I read it; it collapses like a rich French actress does when she collapses and asks for a cigarette and a lighter from her collapsed position, straightening her garter and her gabardine smock for a camera, and I don’t know why she is wearing a smock, so I kick her a little with my riding boot while I am taking her picture. Okay. NOON covers are a black background behind the body of an animal, and the scientific name for the animal appears on the cover in sans-serif font. Scientific names in sans-serif fonts are really nice looking.

I like SIR! as a name for a literary magazine. Brian Foley said something about wanting to publish a certain kind of humor, and SIR! makes me think of a certain kind of humor, and also the words ‘wainscot’ and ‘cummerbund.’

Pindeldyboz, NOÖ Journal, and Zyzzyva–I like these names because it’s like how the hell do you pronounce them?

No Posit and SmokeLong I like because these names say something about the content and form they want to publish. So does Six Sentences, but that doesn’t seem as catchy, like it doesn’t want to grab on to me when I am running past it wearing a smock.

Lamination Colony makes me think of a sweaty clown suit and the sound of rubber clown shoes walking on gravel, and that is creepy. I like it.

N+1 and Ninth Letter sound like chance word games, and that is clever I guess.

Opium. I do not like the name Opium much. For a drug opium is passe–name it Adderall or something, or Soy Protein Powder. I am probably ‘missing the point.’

There are so many, I could do this for hours. When I think about making my own literary magazine I think, There are so many.

There are so many. But I keep thinking about the thing I would add to the heap of them, what would I call it? Something about the feeling of being about to experience a really good thing you have been anticipating, something pre-apocalyptic.