If you know me, you know I’m very big on looking at the bright side of things. Which is probably where the “Heavens Revealed” topic of this issue came from. But of course to constantly look on the bright side gives you something of a case of sunblindness. Heaven and hell being human constructs, they are, like all those pesky bipolarities, two sides of the same coin, yes? And anyway, I know I fail at looking on the dark side at times, with the cost of ignoring hell a little too high for comfort. So Denny Donahue’s Ghost.
On the other hand, in defense of that position, I do think that an endless literary promotion of a dystopian vision is an even worse mistake. In my experience, most people aren’t horrific narcissistic flesh eating monsters. In my experience, everyday life produces the most earthbound heavens. Even if you’re a rocker, like in The Guitar Hero Goes Home, by Marilyn Jaye Lewis. Even if it looks like you’re in hell, it might be you’re prepping a future heaven—Coronado’s Story, by Christorpher Asian Overfelt. Even if you think you’re lying about the heavens, who knows? Confessions of a Reluctant Astronomer, by Ronnie Pontiac. And even if you’re just hanging out in a laundromat, there’s always the stray epiphany—Bruce E.R. Thompson’s O wise laundress.
Meanwhile, we’ve got another excerpt from Brian Griffith’s phenomenal study of the history of Iranian women, Mother Persia—“Parvin Paidar and Postpatriarchal Islam.” Look for the book in Fall 2020, from Exterminating Angel Press. It’s his best work, no lie. And some of ours, too.
Before I leave, I have to give another shout out to Marissa Bell Toffoli, the hardest working poetry editor in rock and roll. I may have mentioned before how very beholden to her I am, but hey, it bears repeating. We have so many looks at poetic heavens and beyond thanks to her this issue: Wrong Sky, by Mark Robinson. San Miguel Cemetery, Malaga, Spain, by Jeff Schiff. Multitude, by Chris Farago. My 70 Year Old Bucket List (Amended), by Barry Vitcov. God, by DS Maolalai. And, of course, Marissa’s own The Music Breaks.
Thanks, hon. EAP just wouldn’t be the same without you.
Welcome back.