City of Legends

It is the return of the "From Out of the City" podcast.

Featuring a funked up, cathedral organ pure testosterone and tears fueled delivery of "The Sacraments" from "Apokalypsis".

Well, what the hell are you waiting for?  Here’s the link:

From Out of the City for January 1, 2011

For those of you who have read my poetry cycle "The Sacraments" know that the poem "matrimony" refers to "the time of apple harvest".  As a fierce advocate for my own mythos, that simple line bound me to a cycle in life.  Accordingly, I may only propose to my Sunday Girl during that time, which is generally read as between August 12th and October 20th.

Question asked and, as yet, unanswered.  Has she given indication of a positive response?  Yes, but I am not very presumptuous.  I gave her my gift for this year a few hours ago and now must hold my tongue for 296 days.

It may be a record of some sort, for me, but I will endure.  I am, if not more than a little disappointed, resolute.  I have seen many suns rise, many stars fall and all in all, I am still the argent sergeant of my own soul.

Who knows what tomorrow brings?  Not I.  But I will walk to the horizon, not ronin, but not yet bound (although she refers to us as "lovers", speaks of our "partnership" and you do not want to know the tongue-lashing I received one day when, inpeckish heartache, I took down my Facebook relationship status of "In a relationship".)

We shall see.  Cider, anyone?

Yes, RenaissanceFive, my lit and arts mag, is still being slaved over.  You would not, can not imagine the people we have working on this thing.  I can assure you, if you are a long-time reader, you will be blown away by our creative team on the first issue.

The new book, Apokalypsis, is on hold…not because of anything other than it is changing direction.  It will now be single-muse focused.  And if you can’t guess which muse, you really need to read more.

The legendary Ophidian himself, Conrad Hoyer, and I are beginning a musical/poetry collaboration that may surprise a lot of people.  Stay tuned.

Yes, I am going to retrofit williamfdevault.com and yes, I am considering a monograph of my poetry suite "The Sacraments".  And, yes, I am giddy to the point of madness in love.  It is starting to annoy people.  Not me.  It is good to be happy.

I will be changing my geographic base of operations within the next twelve months.  To where. depends on several factors.  I will keep you in the loop,

I am not unaware that my latest work, a seven poem cycle using the sacraments of the Catholic Church as metaphors for romantic and even erotic imagery and actions, has created a stir.  I expected it to.

But the truth is, I am an heretic.  Always have been, always will be.  But for clarity, let’s set the record straight about these seven works.

• Nowhere do I use obscene or profane language.
• The romantic and erotic imagery is established as being in the framework of a lifelong, committed and yes, wedded union between two individuals, specifically myself and the Sunday Girl.  It is not a call to excess, adultery or self-flagellation.  Okay, maybe a little self-flagellation.
• It is beautiful, soulful and one of the most proud accomplishments of my life to have penned these.  I include what is almost certainly the only surviving haiku of my career as a writer, a sonnet and a return to my own triskadekian canto form. 

The seven poems are:

• Baptism:  The cleansing and public conversion rite, making the transition, marking the preparation to receive the spirit.
• Confession:  Admitting past mistakes and errors in judgment, making clean and clear the way.
• Communion and Absolution:  The taking of the flesh and the blood into you.  In this case I literally used this (and some Catholic friends are NOT happy with me right now) as an allegory for oral sex, where flesh and body fluids are exchanged and taken into one another to blur the barriers between one body and the other.
• Confirmation:  Affirm what was said in the throes of passion, the morning after.
• Matrimony:  The haiku.  A proposal made and answered within a specific time of year.
• Last Rites:  A sonnet of the passing of one who is beloved, in the arms of their lover.  This damn thing just about killed me to write, for by this point in the write I was inside the sphere of this love.  To one day be so parted from her will be unbearable.
• Ordination:  A triskadekian canto of how love is meant to be witnessed and proclaimed, that to love is like taking on the vestments and becoming an evangelist for the person you love.

Controversial, of course.  Beautiful, undeniable.  All my love to the light that passed through me to the page, my beloved Sunday Girl.