(Photo retrieved from a bucket in the Metazen editorial office labelled “mission statements” though when you look more closely, it might also say “emission abatement”, which says a lot about the mental state of continuous, fertile confusion ruling the editors’ dotty discourse. A note stuck to the picture says:) Have we turned into a pack of wolves under Frank’s turgid tutelage over the past month or so? How could this happen? Why can’t we easily express our vision and goals and communicate them to readers and authors? Why are authors afraid of us? Will we eat them up? An lupine literary identity would explain these and other oddities.
