The Hymn to Dionysus

by Natasha Pulley

We had been apart for decades of that, sometimes because of storms and wars, sometimes on purpose. He still had the witching instinct to make sure nobody, including me, knew everything about him.

ah man

“This had better not involve poetry.” “You’re a snob, Phaidros, you’re an art snob. Oh, could people feel something about it? Boo, hit it with a rock.”

“And that holiest of things: catharsis.” Release. It meant release. Blue.