In preparation for an informal lit gathering this weekend, I’ve been looking over some pieces of creative writing I did way back in aught-one. And I’ve discovered the following:
* I was outrageously melodramatic when I was 23. My lord.
* The grandiosity of a recently graduated English major knows no bounds.
* I should never be allowed to write poetry. Particularly any kind that includes an homage to Wordsworth.
* Sitting on sandstone rocks watching the sunset leads an unimaginative person to write about sitting on sandstone rocks watching the sunset.
* There’s a reason I’m in journalism.
So if I see you this weekend and read from a published author I adore instead of my own poem, “Candy Wrapper,” know that I’m doing you a favor.
* I was outrageously melodramatic when I was 23. My lord.
* The grandiosity of a recently graduated English major knows no bounds.* I should never be allowed to write poetry. Particularly any kind that includes an homage to Wordsworth.
* Sitting on sandstone rocks watching the sunset leads an unimaginative person to write about sitting on sandstone rocks watching the sunset.
* There’s a reason I’m in journalism.
So if I see you this weekend and read from a published author I adore instead of my own poem, “Candy Wrapper,” know that I’m doing you a favor.
4 comments:
You know you have to post "Candy Wrapper" here.
Not so much.
Resurrect Candy Wrapper and let it live another life!
Ha. I would, but Klaus Varley did not send it to me. :(
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