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Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Monday, July 10, 2006

Signs and Premonitions

Okay, I’m sitting here while the woman I share my life with is reading “War Stories.” No good laughs, lots of “hmms” and “oh’s” as in, “so, that’s what you mean.” Well, maybe it’s going to need another rewrite. That’s what readers are for, and it’s better that I get this feedback now, instead of rejection letters later.

Just for the record, no, I’m not upset. This is criticism, not execution. I’m trying to get better, not stay where I am. If you’re in a writing group and you can’t tell a person that they’ve comma-spliced or had a verb-subject disagreement, that’s a literary society.

Time to go get the news.

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