When the going gets weird, the weird gets professional, or something, Hunter said that, Right? Anyway…
I just finished my cover letter for my second fellowship. I’m not good at selling myself, especially at thirty one now (dang) and they are all probably long shots, but I spent a good deal of time writing them, and I just wanted to tell someone that I did that, I guess, so I yeah, that’s what happened society. Good Job Andrew! Ha ha….Anyway, maybe if I don’t hear back I’ll post them and people can show me where I went wrong. But I hope I didn’t go wrong, because this one I think would be perfect. Blah-blah, this is too personal even for me. Who knows what’s going to happen to any of us, you know? Either way, here’s two short random poem/prose selections of mine. Goodbye (in that old AOL voice)
Ten More Minutes of Sleep
The right word for a candle. The right sound of the voice. The heat clicks like a wind-chime. Ten more minutes of sleep. More lights dangle from strings. An abstract lover forgets the mistakes like a child who believes in Santa Claus. A red hat to cover the ageing head. Scars on hands that never have healed. Waiting for thoughts to materialize like sperm cells sailing the womb. Karma and hate, either or are the same, and sheep are nice pets, but always look so scared. A word like saliva rolls, in mouth, back and forth, like waves from the ocean, like waves in the sky that are clouds of the mind, and nothing is easier than breathing. Often I, forget about that too.
Love, Words, and Existentialism
A philosophy is like life, and faith is like love, all are just words, and only you can live.
Dark water and candle light, as the sun shines through me, like water.
Crack bone in head, like egg in omelet tray.
Scorch skin under heat, the invisible ghost, eating, strawberry nectar from hive.
Laugh and love, found in soggy cereal, taste life, for the sake of, whatever.
Kill pastime and create bed time, in dreams, some say that sleeping, is where time really ticks.
Light and dark, within the shades, as nicotine flows inside of my breathing veins.
Time is nothing, but a friend or an enemy, and you can, never choose sides.
Adventures In American Writing 