Leaves blown backward in a vanished book, untelling winter

[sovay]

I did not sleep last night. This is due to headache, not inspiration, and is therefore unwelcome.

This is what is welcome: erzebet's newest Synthesis 2, which contains the text of my poem "The Gambler." Go; marvel. Sometimes I only dream my words look like that.

Comments

[sovay]

You should. It's such a perfect incarnation of what your own work is.

It's like any other skill—because I possess it, I assume that it is less valuable than the arts I do not have. I work on believing differently. Thank you; I do mean it.