Author’s note: A little whimsy, completed, so I’ll avoid the holiday rush and move on to something else. Happy New Year! A.S.
IS TOMORROW JUST another day, or
spring-loaded in a Swiss-watch way,
to shoot us through the bitter year,
dog days of summer, rain, clear,
into another autumn fall,
death in winter
again I bet
and I again
will laugh aloud
ride a bike, hike in clouds
write a song ears won’t hear
write a book that touches dear
The most primal revelations – fear.
Swim in waves of cold rejections, in left-handed presentation
“love the story not the writing,” “the writing’s good the story’s lacking.”
My pessimism isn’t real — I say — but I’m far too deep to grant appeal
I’m blessed beyond the average man so I’ll keep on slinging ink my friend.