Category Archives: Catalogue

by Thom Ryng
(author of The King in Yellow)

Paperback | Available through Amazon | $11.95

This slim collection of Ryng’s poetry brings some of his strongest and most peculiar imagery together in one volume for the first time. It represents the ten years between 1996 and 2006 and includes “Tuesday”, “Songs for Arcadia”, and “A Voyage to Leonia”.

A tour de force of the Subminimalist imagination.

The lyric poetry of Master Drevandemes ranks with the greatest in all world literature. He lived in Zarkhandu Dynasty Sardarthion, but his influence has spanned the centuries: the pure lyricism of his verse has awed readers in Sahûl and beyond for nearly half a millennium.
 

Through Hildred Castaigne’s translations, Drevandemes became central to the Subminimalist revolution in the North. His work is suffused with the philosophies of the Nine Cherry Blossom School, but these seem not so much spiritual influences as the inborn form of his life. However ethereal in spirit, his poems remain grounded in everyday experience. In his poems we see our world and our selves transformed.
 

(some nonesense from the Back Cover)

by Kaspar Hauser
Paperback | Available through Amazon | $14.95

Few are those who tread the Dreamlands of the Earth, but fewer still those who return with something more than a wistful tale.

For years, Kaspar Hauser had a series of recurring dreams in which he carefully copied the contents of a book dedicated to Gods long since slumbering in the world we know. Gods with names like Thedeccan. Kemem. Azathoth.

This is that book.

The title page bore but one legible word: Eidolon.
 

I had no idea at the time why this word should terrify me so. On subsequent nights, and intermittently for nearly five years, other dreams followed. In some, I was a medieval scribe with quill and knife, copying a text; in others I was in the tower again, reading.
 

In one dream, near the end of the five years, I was a hunted fugitive, fleeing the tower and a ravening pack of unearthly hounds while clutching to my breast one of the large books. In the course of these five years, I wrote down everything I could remember.
 

(from the Introduction)