Hello fair readers.
If this is your first introduction to our humble publication, then let it suffice to say that we are publishers of Poetry, Prose, Visual Art, and Criticism of a more traditional bent, encouraging form, structure, narrative, purpose, and sensibility in whatsoever way that applies to the medium at hand. The endeavor of this publication is the creation of an epic and its epoch, and the fostering and nourishment of the artists who shall do this work via the publication of works suitable for such. Naturally, that begs the following questions: What is an epic? What is its epoch? In the classic verbosity of the self-indulgent editor, we shall endeavor to briefly answer them both.
An epic is, to put it plainly, a civilization defining work. It needn’t be poetry, though we seem to be getting a lot of that in our submission inbox. It need only be great.
The epoch of an epic is, to put it more plainly, a civilization worth defining. More precisely it is the period of time in a civilization’s life which produces great works and great men.
As such the astute reader might say: the goal of this publication is to foster greatness. To which I your humble, concise editor would respond: damn straight! We want art to be worth living for, worth dying for, and worth killing for, and want it to be produced by a civilization, by men, worth living for, worth dying for, and worth killing for. If we haven’t that, then why live? That is the goal of this publication.
If you were following this publication before, or even submitted work, we are glad you are still with us. We took a brief hiatus, but have returned, and in this our triumphal return, back from the gates of death and oblivion, invite you to embark with us on our quest to foster greatness within those we publish and perhaps ourselves while we’re at it. With us we bring our new Poetry Editor Matthew Wildermuth, our Editor at Large Ross Tieken, and our Painter-Editorialist Paul Rhodes.
We open with a fine bit of work by Juleigh Howard Hobson entitled “The Red Rider.” Later in the week we have Matthew Wildermuth’s opening salvo on keeping the flame of poetry, and a column of my own.
In service of the Muse, and her mother Mnemosyne,
–Akshay C. Gollapalli, Editor in Chief