frostsigils

A compendium of forgotten heresies, myths, art and death poems, in homage to PAYSAGE D’HIVER

MOUNT ABRAXAS PRESS MMXXI

My previous reviews of this publisher HERE

When I read this book, my thoughts will appear in the comment stream below…

4 thoughts on “frostsigils”

  1. 7BD31810-5C39-4C41-8BA7-9FB1BEF5B3D4With over 250 pages, paysage as passage, possibly the eye-shocked plushest book you will ever handle as well as squeeze your ‘I’s at, with winterdark become its equivalent to snowblinding. Yet, the amazing number of blackonred artworks cry out to crowd the retina’s rods and cones with a satisfying sHiver of éclat.
    Mine is numbered 10 of 144.

  2. hymn to a holly king poem by Nihthelm
    “…scepter wrought of ice and snow […] Solar reign usurped…”
    “‘Til it’s return” = ‘Til it is return?
    It is return duly invoked by now putting my earlier written intro above in reverse?

  3. THE COMPLEMENT AND ITS WHOLE by Anders Patrick Segerberg

    “This is no dream.”

    A most powerful prose section, I must say. I am forced to say. This book is imposing, its tall pages as stiff almost as the rock and architecture of this rocky prison of mazed cells and lockdowns for us today, but it is in deceptive contrast to the crumbly parchment pages the narrator encounters! You will not credit the contradictory keeps and redoubts here that make the gestalt. The descriptions are ineluctable and adept. Yet, the switch I have been given in turn gives absence or presence to the mad architect of this review site who is now dealing with it. Thetrue covivid dream, even if a dream it is not.

    “Perhaps it is all part of some centered narrative, too vast to comprehend.”

  4. I am actually quite disturbed by turning these stiff imposing red and shining black insects on the pages, the images, too. No warning enough from me will be enough, but if you want to end up ‘alone’ as a refrain of hope and escape or indulge your insanity, I suggest reading as overkill or hopefully catharsis the Christian Riley prose section THE COILS OF MADNESS, about murder and Mearna and dwarves amid these hotly frosty pages interleaved by shapes of image-configured blackness impinging even on your blind spots of vision. Following two poems, one by Martin van Valkenstein (“Eaten up by Sol’s golden rays / Obliviate!”) and another by Winteherr in a language I do not comprehend but it seems to creep into my veins nevertheless!

    My previous reviews of Christian Riley: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/tag/christian-riley/