Eventually, you’ll want
to start writing it down,
thinking the story will
spoil otherwise. And then
going downstairs some night,
you’ll think you found a body
underneath some lumber or,
in a grim-comic vein,
thirty years of pulp magazines.
Just a ventriloquist’s dummy,
leering like you expected it to.
Go deeper.
Still Alive
Working on some longer form prose right now. May post some samples soon.
I Have Time to Write Because There’s Nothing Else to Do
I can see clear space at the bottom of my Outlook inbox.
My Task List starts with tomorrow.
My gmail is temporarily cleared of advertisements.
I’m waiting on a reply from my boss on fifteen different matters
of the utmost importance.
poetrytech 