Vicarious Life

we drank and drank sought
oblivion but none came
nor euphoria nor
altered plane
just

a steady numbing yet i
heard it all and saw
it all missed not
a single
thing
he was indeed a poet of
no mean proportion
a short-lived van
gogh of
words
bent to self-destruction on
his path to knowing
no mouth just lips
a line drawn
thin
lids distort the sound of eye
crepe covers brittle bones
dry laughter dying
hardly heard at
all
times i wonder why we bother
what is the draw spoken raw
pleasure pain parallel of
love and hate vicarious
life
do we want too much to feel or
taste anything that we take up
everything so greedily we
chase the siren’s
call

Write a Novel in 30 days...

Fifty thousand words
written in thirty days time
pen at the ready.

The National Novel Writing Month site went live earlier today.  I'm registered, of course.  

Call us masochists, writers have that streak, but every year at 12:01 a.m. November first we log on by the thousands and commit to write our 'great American novel' or at least 50,000 words towards that end.

It's an amazing challenge, and very many of us get through and beyond 50,000 words.  Some continue to edit after November 30, and a rare few persist and actually find their way to a published book.  

Those few inspire the rest of us, to come back each year with fresh ideas and go at it all over again.  Hope springs eternal.

50,000 words in 30 days; that's  1667 words a day.  It's doable folks. I intend to use 30 days of my countdown for my nanowrimo novel.  

NanoWriMo.org
Excerpt of my 2011 Novel

Fall's Golden Rain

I noticed the leaves
this morning as I journaled
every breeze blew their
golden yellow rain
past the sill of my aerie
glad rags to mourning

In the beginning

I was there with the first myth makers and monks who made up your stories.  - Rilke's Book of Hours



I believe that’s true
I was there then, before, since
At one with I am