I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Bone in the World

After a night filled with what seemed to be meaningless word substitution, I think I got "Scrimshaw Man" back in order. There were edits all over. I put in a word in the first stanza that I kept saying out loud when reading it. The second stanza is all new from the last time I submitted it, I think it's much stronger now. At least it's more concrete.

So after a quick search, it's off to Strange Horizons. We'll see how it does there. Good luck little poem. So that was what, two days?

Although I did skip writing a report for the Village. Oh well. I'll have to do it this weekend.

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