you who are so far away

Under Stars, by Tess Gallagher

The sleep of this night deepens
because I have walked coatless from the house
carrying the white envelope.
All night it will say one name
in its little tin house by the roadside.

I have raised the metal flag
so its shadow under the roadlamp
leaves an imprint on the rain-heavy bushes.
Now I will walk back
thinking of the few lights still on
in the town a mile away.

In the yellowed light of a kitchen
the millworker has finished his coffee,
his wife has laid out the white slices of bread
on the counter. Now while the bed they have left
is still warm, I will think of you, you
who are so far away
you have caused me to look up at the stars.

Tonight they have not moved
from childhood, those games played after dark.
Again I walk into the wet grass
toward the starry voices. Again, I
am the found one, intimate, returned
by all I touch on the way.

falling behind

I need to come up with a publishing project to pursue. The possibility exists that this will actually be published as a viable book, though with a limited print run. And, you know, in Scotland.

So, anybody have a spare novel lying about?

I thought it might also be good to do an anthology of short stories. Perhaps, given the discussion and awareness of and concern lately about "whitewashing" in scifi and fantasy, by authors with Asian backgrounds? (this is simply because I know a large number personally) Except I'm not sure that y'all have stories lying around and available to such an enterprise.

GAH. Time to start panicking. And browsing teh interwebs to see what sort of ideas I can turn up.