Nonpaid ad:

Dear Readers, Community Members and Lovers of the Word,

We are pleased to announce the upcoming release later this summer
of our second book The Marrow's Telling: Words in Motion,
by Eli Clare, author of Exile and Pride. A collection of poetry
and prose, it spans 15 years, organized not as memoir
but as an exploration of how bodies carry history and
identity over time. Embracing contradiction and repetition,
this work maps itself around embodied experiences of
disability, race, gender transgression and transition, abuse, and
sexuality.

Have the book sent right to your home at a prepublication
discount of 40% ($9 plus shipping). Order now. This offer
will end once the book rolls hot off the press. Just
follow this link: http://tinyurl.com/2xxp36

International readers please email us at
publisher@homofactuspress.com with your home country. We will send
you a separate invoice by paypal with correct shipping.

The book is already soliciting rave reviews:

"Eli Clare works a vital alchemy in these poems. Using the
language of the elemental world, he delineates a complex
human intersection and transmutes cruelty into its
opposite—a potent, lifegiving remedy."
--Alison Bechdel, creator of Dykes to Watch Out For and Fun Home

"The Marrow's Telling is tactile, tangible, penetrating; a soft
swirl of muted colors that sneaks in under your guard and leaves
a lingering taste in your mouth, rather like woodsmoke or blood."
--Raven Kaldera, author of Hermaphrodeities

"Eli's work detonates inside of you, right to the edges
where you balance."
--Amber Hollibaugh, author of My Dangerous Desires:
A Queer Girl Dreaming Her Way Home

"The Marrow's Telling trembles with CP and desire,
rendered in language both passionate and precise. It is an
important book, telling a story—in moments—that the world
needs to hear."
--Jim Ferris, author of The Hospital Poems and The Enjambed
Body: A Step toward a Crippled Poetics

Come join Eli in these pages as he chases echoes down to the
marrow, tracing their sources back to a lover's hand,
a bully's taunt, a wild blue sky.

Finally here's a little something to tease you:

"...and in its place we wake, grief
spun to smoke, to mist, to motes of sun,
my hands playing their unsteady beat,
tremor to skin, we wake
the warm hollow center..."
--from "Two Waters"

Yours in the work,
The folks at HfP