Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. “What floor, please?” said the elevator man. “Any floor,” said Mr. In. “Top floor,” said Mr. Out. “This is the top floor,” said the elevator man. “Have another floor put on,” said Mr. Out. “Higher,” said Mr. In. “Heaven,” said Mr. Out. – F. Scott Fitzgerald, May Day
I know I have a meager number of followers, and for that I am both thankful and humbled, as well as extremely proud of myself. I want you guys to know that I am very grateful to have the support of a readership, even if it is small. Every person counts when all you want […]
“Some time later there was a song on all the jukeboxes on the upper East Side that went “but where is the schoolgirl who used to be me,” and if it was late enough at night I used to wonder that. I know now that almost everyone wonders something like that, sooner or later and […]
A good friend of mine, Emily Rudofsky, is writing a poem a day for thirty days for Tupelo Press, alongside other poets for the 30/30 Project. She’s a great writer, and this is one of my favorites from her for this project. Please check out the 30/30 Project, and please donate to a great cause. […]
“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, […]
Swelter by Robert Stroud Apartment 3C by Jeanne Henry Crazy White Man by Sam Hagedorn Alive by Natalia Andrievskikh Alliterative Affection by Charlie Lowrey On Humility by Neal Williamson
I’ve begun a new writing class in this, my last semester of my undergraduate degree. It’s for flash fiction, and though we’ve only been in class twice so far, I am falling in love. As a writer, I’ve never had more trouble than with story – I just can’t make it last. Upon reading an […]
Sunne Rising John Donne Busy old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ? Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run ? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school-boys and sour prentices, Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices ; […]
I’m sorry. My soul is missing all its poetry. She’ll return with a vengeance, though. Promise.
Words of Ron: Stick with the abstract. I know this is it, the piece to my puzzle. I’ll be in control now, armed with this. Because: [he] isn’t as important as someday [you] will be.
