My poem "Larva" has been accepted by inkscrawl. This is the one I wrote on realizing I could no longer recognize some people I had once cared for very much. The title is in the Roman sense: a ghost, a death-mask. Guest appearance by Ashmedai, who is still important to me.
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Page Summary
Active Entries
- 1: This po-mo stuff is nice, but it's irrelevant to the way I feel right now
- 2: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 3: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
- 4: Now I'm walking round the city just waiting to come to
- 5: You know this city like the back of your hand, but deep roots are holding me down
- 6: Here we are in the summer rain again
- 7: You're on, music master
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