Readers, as you will note, I have once again this month vacated my space in this note so that we might continue to offer a new element, instead: the authors of the poems (or translations, or both) speaking of their
August: and you’ll be pleased to discover, Readers, that you’ll be spared another chapter in the ongoing Lawless saga. Instead, a new direction, one which I hope will quickly become the direction: contributors speaking of the origins (for the most
July: and, given the length and discursiveness of last month’s note, a reprieve, Reader: the briefest of remarks this time – little more than two passing images as I write a few hours before our deadline. But, really, a way
June: and considering again my recent, um, ruminations of the centrality of cigarettes in my almost-teenager life in the latter sixties, I thought, tonight as I write, I might extend that reverie. Easy enough – after all, it was not
This month, for the second time in three months and in Plume’s relatively brief history, I happily step aside, offering this space instead to David Breskin, who fills it — admirably is far too feeble praise — with selected pieces
April: and, alone in another city, lost (as usual) as I wander around the back of a strip mall, three figures huddled on a small loading dock provide my subject this issue: cigarettes, and their many pleasures in my youth.
This month, with much to mourn, I happily cede this space to Chard deNiord’s remembrance of Tom Lux. Tom was going to read for us at AWP, before, well. I spoke at some length to Chard over those few days,
February: yes, readers, the shortest month, and in acknowledgment of or rather aligning with such I want to offer today the briefest of these editorial missives on record. Not altogether coincidentally my note this time begins with a passage from
January: and as I write tonight, mid- December, winter or what passes for such in Florida. Far ahead of schedule on this Editor’s Note, for I want to have the issue behind me before heading to Louisville for the holidays.
December: and once again I find my subject in that recent trip home to Louisville, freshened this time by a chance encounter with my ancient Master’s thesis, discovered in a storage bin at my mother’s home, as I hunted for
November: and just back from a trip home to Louisville, where I met my cousin B—, come to visit my mother, out of the blue, on her birthday – 93! We had been close, B— and I, when we were
Readers: Welcome to Plume Issue # 63 – October: and, naturally enough, given this month’s Featured Selection on the work of the recently passed Max Ritvo, as I cast about for a theme for this note: thoughts of death,
Readers: Welcome to Plume Issue # 62 – September: and you’ll be very happy to discover – no anecdotes from that miscreant youth of mine. In fact, just these few words by way of preface to the Featured Selection
Readers: Welcome to Plume Issue # 61 – August: and as threatened, another anecdote from my miscreant youth – though not what I originally intended. Much shorter, you’ll be happy to learn. What follows is a result not of