What muse have we landed ourselves with, anyway?
TRUE (from “My Life with Dogs”), by Tod Davies.
There may be a reason why the Muse is generally a woman . . .
FRANCIS COPPOLA’S APOCALYPSE, by Sean Murphy.
If you’re lucky enough to have a muse, don’t whine if you don’t have a big bank account too . . .
THOSE EVIL SPIRITS, by Brian Griffith.
Who you calling ‘evil’ anyway?. . .
A TALE OF PERSISTENCE, by Tom Ball.
Once again, the future amuses . . .
WHO WAS DOROTHY?, by Bruce E.R. Thompson.
And the muses of the past teach us about the present. . .
THE SCREAMING BABOON, by Matias Travieso-Diaz.
Any muse worth her salt inspires amusing allegory . . .
HER, by Zary Fekete.
And a very charming story of everyday life as well . . .
BROKEN CLOCK, by Galen T. Pickett.
But honestly, nothing beats being muse to a storytelling scientist . . .
PERSON NUMBER TWELVE, by Jim Meirose.
Or to your common garden variety surrealist . . .
A CONVERSATION WITH STEVE HUGH WESTENRA, by Joel Glover.
Or a writer of fantasy . . .
THE WITHERING WEIGHT OF BEING PERCEIVED, by Joel Glover.
Or the writer of science fiction. . .
DREAM SHAPES, by Barry Vitcov.
Or one of dreams. . .
12 BAKING ESSENTIALS TO ALWAYS HAVE IN YOUR POETRY, by John Van Pelt.
The Muse inhabits misreadings, as a matter of fact . . .
SWAN LAKE, by Bettina Sapien.
And comments turned magically on their head . . .
A DEATH IN ALEXANDRIA, by Gail White.
And infamous murders . . .
1966, NYC; NOTHING LIKE IT, by Diana Morley.
And the innocence of the past . . .
SOMETIMES YOU DIE, I MEAN THAT PEOPLE DO, by Gale Acuff.
Or the false guilt of the innocent . . .
CONFESSION, by JW James.
There’s the sacrifice of love . . .
THE MUSE, by Jerzy Liebert (translated by Charles S. Kraszewski).
All worth it. All so so worth it . . .
SPRING, by Jerzy Liebert (translated by Charles S. Kraszewski).
As the poet loves his muse . . .
THE GREATNESS THAT WAS GREECE, by Charles S. Kraszewski.
As the poet mourns a failure of love for the muse . . .
FRAGMENTARY MUSINGS ON BIRDS AND BEES, by Cliff Beck.
When there was and is so much to love and preserve . . .
SINGING AGAINST THE MUSES, by Mark Wyatt.
So many creatures to love . . .
CANNON BEACH, by David Bolton.
So many images to love . . .
BROAD STREET, by Rosalie Hendon.
So sharp, the poet may hurt herself . . .
MY FORKED TONGUE, by Clarissa Jakobsons.
Or hurt someone else . . .
SUN SHOWER, by David D. Horowitz.
In the circle of muses, there’s always room for one more . . .
LONG DIVISION, by Marissa Bell Toffoli.
The Muse of the Everyday, that’s one of EAP’s most loved . . .
APHORISMS FROM “WHAT REMAINS TO BE SAID,” by Yahia Lababidi.
So the poet teaches, “Know your Muse and its diet.”
The TODBLOG gives thanks for the EAP Community, from the bottom of
Tod’s heart. . . JAM TODAY believes in transferring aggression away from people and onto broccoli . . .
This issue’s photo is by EAP’s own MIKE MADRID. . .nailed it, Mike.
Next issue is 1 July, the SUMMER 2025: DAYLIGHT SAVING issue…contributions by 1 June, please…
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got poems? email Marissa. got anything else? email Tod.