Following are two items from yesterday’s reading (and the Rock review process itself).
This is a poem, an ode to the guinea pig, that I wrote a significant length of time ago for an English teacher. Because the way I think has changed since then, I don’t particularly like it. So, erm, why am I blogging it? I have no answer.
/thought/creative/poetry/Let it rain shooting stars onto my waiting pillow |
24 Dec, 2003 |
2 comments
Quasi-surrealist poem.
The actual title, “The Most Singularly Rare Events at the Intersection of Fourth and Birch on the Evening of December Ninth, 1874”, was far too long to use as the title of this entry.
This is the first of some creative writing pieces that I hope to gain the confidence to post. With any luck, there will be at least a few more.
This is a story. Erm… please read all the way through.
