Note from the Editors

Amal says: Well, Goblin Fruit is now four years old. Our little 'zine has grown into a toddler pre-schooler1! And what a splendid year it's been: since our last anniversary, we've seen the launch of the Mischief, the production of our first printed matter, and the first half of a successful Editorial Swap -- the second half of which should appear before this cruellest month is out.

This Spring has seen us tidying our gardens and pruning back our plum trees, getting ready for the lush seasons ahead. It is, therefore, a sparer, sparser season than usual; it's cold here in Cornwall, and the branches are late in budding. Still, there are monsoons to be found in this issue, and deep bogs; desert-bound saints and grieving goddesses; incantations, recitations, and the sea. We wish you much joy of them all.

We're also delighted to announce that ten poems from last year's Goblin Fruit have been nominated for The Rhysling Award! They are as follow:

"O.D." by J. C. Runolfson
The Bears Are Working" by Shweta Narayan
"Custody" by Rosalind Casey
The Changeling Always Wins" by Nicole Kornher-Stace
"Other Difficulties," by C.S.E. Cooney and Nicole Kornher-Stace, from Demon Lovers and Other Difficulties
"Beautifully Mutilated, Instantly Antiquated" by Alex Dally MacFarlane
"Apsara" by Shweta Narayan
"The Drowned Town" by Gemma Files
"The Meek Shall Inherit" by Delbert R. Gardner
"Godfather Death" by Rose Lemberg

Congratulations to you all on the nominations, and the best of the goblins' luck to you with the award!

Jess says: On a more somber note, one of our favourite poets died on February 13th. Her name is Lucille Clifton and if you haven't already read her poetry, we urge you to do so. Lucille Clifton wrote about women, about Mary, about light and about family; she wrote from the heart, from the gut, from the tooth. Go. Find "hag riding" from her collection Terrible Stories. Go. Find her Leda poems in The Book of Light, her poems to Clark Kent, her Lucifer poems. Go, read, because we haven't lost her poetry.

This issue is dedicated to her memory.

Amal says: Thank you as ever to Oliver Hunter, for the contribution of his beautiful art; to Dmitri Zagidulin, for his web-beast magics; and to our dear contributors, without whom we would know too well whether t'were night or day, and ache and hunger for the uncertainty.

1 There was some discussion about this; Jess insisted that children four years of age are not toddlers, but pre-schoolers playing with crayons. To which Amal said, surely they still toddle? Eventually Amal's mother was consulted as to the cut-off age for toddlers; she declared it to be four years. Jessica's mother was likewise queried; she, after much serious consideration, concurred. The Editors of course bow before Motherly Wisdom, and Amal is forced to admit that she herself is That Parent, the one who Doesn't Want Her Child to Grow Up. Then again, who knows? Goblins never really age.