Site Meter
Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space with no time left to start again.
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'cause fire is the devil's only friend.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in Hell could break that Satan's spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Right Back Out

Sent "What the Sea Sends" to Weird Tales. They only publish a few poems, but what the heck. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

2 comments:

Stewart Sternberg said...

Good luck on the poem. I think the poetry in horror is always a difficult sell and sometimes a difficult swallow. Still, there is definitely a place for it.

Steve Buchheit said...

Stewart, yes it is. Although this poem is more toward the fantasy than the dark fantasy side of things. It's mostly the implications of the poem that dive toward the dark side.

Also, glad to see you here. :)