I’m a lazy blogger. I can admit it. I wear many hats, you see: mother, student, employee, partner, friend, and recently I got to add patient to my collection. Of course, these hats get broken down further, on occasion, into mini-hats…beanies or maybe tiaras. What I’m trying to say is sometimes sleeping is more important than blogging.
As I mentioned in my first post, this place is going to look like a Schizophrenic runs it. Although I am most known (and I use that loosely) for fiction writing, I started out as a poet. Poetry is a love of mine, and it heavily influences my fiction writing. I’ll be posting poems I find engaging. I’ll be posting some of my own work. I’ll be posting about the submission process and how it feels to be rejected. It sucks, and you know this, but I’m going to tell you about it anyway. I’ll even post about the progress of my book…you know, if I ever get back to working on it.
I also take requests. Just saying.
Since I’ve had several requests to post it, I’ll leave you with my newest poem.
I Was Told These Sheep Were Fireproof
I used to pretend that wool was asbestos.
It wouldn’t burn.
It would give you cancer, though…so there’s that.
Pick your poison, little lamb
Die slowly every day, like everyone else
Or build up like orbital re-entry
Until your skin explodes like pork rinds?
Ewe should have seen it coming
Mary never loved you
Neither did Joseph.