Showing posts with label Roger Dutcher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roger Dutcher. Show all posts

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Poetry Roundup: Asimov's October/November 2010

Roadside Stand by Mark Rich

A settler on Mars haggles over tomatoes, and poetically enjoys memories of home. Not bad.

Foxwife by Jane Yolen

Either a fox attaches herself to a scholar hanging out in some ruins, or a woman protects her husband. Maybe both. This one is nicely weird.

Welcome Home by Janis Ian

A nice rhyming song about how reading (SF in particular) makes it easier for the weird kids to make it through a lonely childhood. References so many things I can't list them here, but I'm glad to see Cordwainer Smith in there. Best of issue, although this averages out to the most poetically strong issue of the year.

All That Matters by Roger Dutcher

Colonizers of the outer solar system feel insignificant on the scale of space. Is there any point? Okay.

Tourists from Outer Space by Darrell Schweitzer (Unlisted in the Table of Contents by editorial error, appears on page 141)

Tourists to Earth from other species and planets don't absorb our culture, they just party and leave. Like America is with underdeveloped countries. This is just taking something from everyday life and saying "hey, what if someone did this to us." Not interesting. The only poem in this issue I didn't at least somewhat enjoy.

Poetry Roundup: Asimov's September 2010

The Now We Almost Inhabit by Roger Dutcher and Robert Frazier

The Singularity is approaching, and while that is one "Now" we almost inhabit, once it gets here, things will change so fast that anything we know will only be almost. And maybe the end implies the Singularity is like The Rapture? I don't get this one entirely but it is poetic and nicely worded and not blinding obvious, which is always nice. Best of issue.

Egg Protection by Ruth Berman

Some robins protect their eggs from Berman's fourth bad poem of the year. She muses on how she doesn't want their eggs and they don't trust her. I'm getting too sick of Berman to even get up any sarcasm at this point. Long, meaningless, non-poetic story.