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Now John at the bar is a friend of mine. He gets me my drinks for free.
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be.
He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me," as a smile ran away from his face.
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place."

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. :)