Monday, August 23, 2010

where things stand

Mom is at a sub-acute rehab facility "getting back on her feet". She could be there a few more days. It's a little complicated to to get into... so I won't. But she is doing better.

Made more cuts and edits to Heritage Fields. The more I think about how to market the book, the more the story is rethought. The plot remains the same but I am changing the way readers get into the story. Must get the book to sell itself, that's what editors want.

On a separate unrelated note, when clearing out contacts in your cell phone remember to also clear out the call history. That way you can avoid embarassing moments such as your [my] cell phone self-dialing in your [my] pocket when you are walking around and you call someone who does not want to be bothered by you.

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Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away