Monthly Archives: March 2015

The Closet

Tinny ducted shouts
From angry gods
Force retreat
To folded closeted space

Where quietude’s usurious coin
Mints a treasury
Of bereft isolation

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No Clarion West 2015 for me

I received my rejection letter Tuesday; I will not be attending Clarion West 2015.

Unlike others who shared the same judgement, my rejection email neither included a note that the reading committee commened my work nor an encouragement to apply again.

I’d be lying if I said my ego wasn’t bruised, but I’ve always been viewing Clarion West as an accelerant, not a gate, so I write.

Next step: finish some works in progress and submit them for publication.

Goal: paid publication* (or placement for publication) before year’s end.

Right then; back to writing.

*Excluding my existing self-publishing endeavors that earn me occasional lunch money.

On depression

Dpression is the Hawking radiation from around the black hole of nihilism created by sadness that exceeded the Chandrasekhar limit.

When

When your eight year-old
Tells you
What he wants
To be buried
Because he’s so angry
At you
Because you
Took something
Away from him
When he was six
And he wants
To kill himself
Because of it
And he wants
To get a knife
And stab his heart
What do you say?

When he says
He’s been sad
Every day
Sad
Because that thing
Is gone
Sad on roller coasters
Sad at the zoo
Sad laughing
Sad smiling
Sad
What do you say?

When he says
He hated
The replacement
He later got
At Christmas
And didn’t tell you
He hated it
Because he didn’t
Want to hurt
Your feelings
What do you say?

When he cries
The cry of loss
Unrecoverable loss
Bone rattling loss
And the tears
Will not stop
And the cries
Of anguish
Echo in the void
And you know
You know
Where he’s at
Because you
You’ve been there too
And he’s only eight
Only eight
And you see
Before your eyes
This piece
Of your child
Tear away
And you can’t
Can’t
Stop it
And you know
He’s there alone
When you’re right there
What do you say?

When he says
He hates you
And hates his life
And wants to die
And wants you to die
And his life is shit
And you’re a son of a bitch
And a fucker
And an asshole
And he wants to die
Please let me die daddy
I hate my life
Please let me die
You fucker
What do you say?

When he wants
That thing
And you’re the hate
Because it’s gone
Because you took it
You fucker
What do you say?

When you know
It’s his brain
And he’s tired
And the new meds
Might be talking
He doesn’t mean it
It’s not him
What do you say?

When he runs
For the knives
And knees you
In the head
Hard
Hard, to make you cry
And he wants to die
Wants to die
And his brother
Cries
Terrified
What do you say?

When you think
You did the right thing
The best you could
All you could
Right then
Right now
And one day
He may understand
But not tonight
Not now
You fucker
You asshole
You son of a bitch
You mothefucker
You shit
You bastard
Fuck you
Leave me alone
I want to die
Let me die
Go the fuck away
Go the fuck away
Let me die
Let me die
What do you say?

When he finally drops
Exhausted
Mumbling
Still obsessed
And asking
Asking asking
Asking for it back
And you shush him
And you kiss him
Goodnight
On the knit forehead
You used to nuzzle
When he was baby small
And tell him
You love him
And he whispers back
With a smile
I love you too
What do you say?