Ben L. Seems like Ultan’s Door is sold out in print. Do you plan on a second printing?
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Fuel for the dream engines:
Fuel for the dream engines: https://www.npr.org/sections/pictureshow/2018/10/22/653642391/long-lost-watercolors-of-1001-nights-bring-new-life-to-age-old-tales https://www.npr.org/sections/pictureshow/2018/10/22/653642391/long-lost-watercolors-of-1001-nights-bring-new-life-to-age-old-tales
Title
Prospero's Speech, when he relinquishes his power at the end of The Tempest and leaves his island forever: Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have’s mine own, Which is most faint. Now, ’tis true, I must be here confined by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got And pardoned the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell, But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands. Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardoned be, Let your indulgence set me free. Picture is of Patrick Stewart as Prospero in a production of The Tempest I saw in the outdoor theater in Central Park 23 years ago. During the whole play a real storm was gathering overhead. And as he gave his final spee
RIP The Parapraxis
RIP The Parapraxis The fine vessel that carried Zalvorex to strange dreamworlds on the Oneiric Sea. The ship that docked at the cyclopean bays of the silent City of the Fathers. The ship that hazarded most treacherous currents to raid the floating tombs of heroic dreamers from higher realities. It was the storehouse of Zalvorex's undermind, the repository of his own unconscious writ large, and the extension of his own immune system, the vessel was a part and a projection of himself. And yet, in the end it fell, sucked into the receding waters of a phantasmal lake that emanated from its own ruined engines, until at last it vanished like a reflection on a bubble that burst. And so Zalvorex was freed, but saw before him the object of his half century of longing recede into the horizon and dwindle to nothing.