Friday, April 15, 2011



You stare at the blank screen
Watch the cursor
Pace its blink
And sigh
the story you’ve just read
is perfection, refined
like an artifact in wood some craftsman has perfected, polished, and gone his way.
The master of gore and vampires
Turned to poetry and golden light
Flawless, with a turn of his wrist
And you’re awed.
A chaotic swirl
Of respect-admiration- wistful
Permeate your brain
A golden wash, satiated
With pokey “I wish I could’s”
All you think of
How layered the story was
Crisp and quick
Characterization jampacked in a few quick lines
You sigh
And push yourself to your humble four hundred.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It always seems to come easier to others than it does to ourselves. Cannot move beyond this myself. Can't get rejected if you never send a manuscript. I like to read Writer's Digest "Reject A Hit" as a kind of salve. Must remind myself that even the best were rejected nobodies at one point too. Now if I could learn to stop editing/rewriting things to death. It's like OCD, I can't stop.