Contributors

Samuel R. Delany
Contributor History

Biography
Samuel R. Delany
In 2016, Samuel R. Delany was inducted into the New York State Writers Hall of Fame. He is the author of Babel-17, Nova, and Dhalgren (all with Vintage), Dark Reflections (Dover), Atlantis: Three Tales and the Return to Neveryon series (both Wesleyan University Press), an autobiography, The Motion of Light in Water (Minnesota University Press), and the paired essays Times Square Red I Times Square Blue (New York University Press). A pioneer of experimentalism in the science-fiction genre and beyond, as well as a critic and memoirist, he has won both Hugo and Nebula Awards from the World Science Fiction Convention and the Science Fiction Writers of America, among many other honors. He lives with his life partner, Dennis Rickett, in Philadelphia. His website is www.samueldelany.com.

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In Print

Vol. 82
Works & Days
Spring 2024
Bradford Morrow

Online

May 29, 2024
A tree stump, leg’s length, scorched black. Dragging slowly through snow sand so as not to take down any of the edges. The grains leave a fine film on the hand. One of several wood pieces to help prop up the broken end of the vessel for repair. I am stranded, marooned, run aground. Struck from the sky by something unseen in the night. How I might attempt to lift the vessel onto the stumps by myself remains to be seen. I have been hauling the dead remains of trees to the site for days. Behind me always, a perfect trail of depressed sand snow snaking into the distance. The wind is merciless so there is no evidence of my circuitous journey. With each step, each push of the log, a gust comes and smooths everything away.
May 22, 2024
Now that the bumblebees are sounding in the yard, sprint to the garden store in your tank top with your poodle as if there is a headwind. Stub a toe. Hear the tick of the clock as you place your items on the trolley: a new houseplant, two and three: a philodendron since you already have a few and they grow so nicely. Pay for mulch. Get some stones while you’re at it. Some daisies for the back. Black-eyed Susans too.
May 15, 2024
The boy watches me tend the fry pan. First of November in a warm year. I was an old man this morning. Now it is night and I am still an old man. The good stink of hot fried whitefish rises in the kitchen and oak leaves have fallen, painted the hill red. I am an old man because my body does not move fast. I am an old man because I have seen change that is large enough to fit inside my body. The change I have seen is like a bent stick I have swallowed. It sits inside my chest. It might make a hole in something soon.