An unspeakably early dentist's appointment this morning and I've spent the rest of the day reading and cross-referencing articles that interest me much less than does Catullus. On the bright side, my poem "Radio Banquo" has been accepted by Strange Horizons. If I'm going to continue this trend of writing poems based on Shakespeare I've seen (or taken part in: this one was triggered by the Macbeth reading Eric organized in December), I'm behind on Twelfth Night and Othello, but it's a good sign for Timon of Athens in May.
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- 1: When I invited Frank and you back to mine for a mange tout when I meant ménage à trois
- 2: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 3: The shadows on the walls don't recognize me anymore
- 4: This po-mo stuff is nice, but it's irrelevant to the way I feel right now
- 5: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
- 6: Now I'm walking round the city just waiting to come to
- 7: You know this city like the back of your hand, but deep roots are holding me down
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