Wow!

Wow.  Two years have passed since I've posted on this blog.  I'm so sorry.  Sorry for myself.  Sorry that I have left my first love -- fiction.  How could I?  HOW COULD I?

I don't understand it myself.  I've just recently returned to reading fiction.  I've been into mainly non-fiction the past couple of years.  I can't tell you the last time I wrote a work of fiction.  I believe the neglect is part of a deep rooted depression (buried and hardly seen) that is part of my being.  I am a story teller.  If not that, I am a story lover.

Yes, I still write.  I write about trail running.  I write computer course descriptions for the district's adult education brochure.  I write course hand-outs.

But it's time to return to fiction.  In one month's time, I will post something new, either a chapter or short story.  Not sure where I'm going from here.  I WILL WRITE SOMETHING.  To prove that I'm sincere, I pulled out old journals with some poetry (AND I WAS NEVER A SERIOUS POETRY WRITER).  I'm going to put myself out there and post some of the pages, almost embarrassingly, here.  (Hopefully, I haven't posted prior).  Until next month . . .

A short untitled from 8/23/94

We walk about
     the world so blind.
          In a frenzy!
          Uneasy.
     so eager to bind.


The Fall (To be Free) 12/14/95

When God said to thee,
     Go forth, away from me -- 
We picked up our clothes and ran 
     Straight for the door.

Since then we've been fed
     By the serpent instead -- 
Like he, eating dust off the floor.

Desire (4/96)

His gifts to her stolen gold,
She pawned to pay his bail -- 

Feverish, drunken
All American Male!

He came to her unruly
A magician waving wands --

Revelry, spinning,
Dionysian dawns.

A moment time vanished,
Her soul should he set afire --

Ensorcelled, wanting,
Heartbreaking desire.