Lindsay Stone: Hey I've been working on building a social network for the slam community and it's now up please feel free to take part in this and to help make it great and share ( Read more... )

I'm reading The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole, the first Gothic Horror novel. It is a better read the the Pulitzer winning A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley. By the time she gets all of the characters onstage (in retelling King Lear) I didn't care enough about them to continue reading it.

hon i wish you the best
[(i)(you)(we)] are memories
i/you/we should have
learned by now that
memories are ghosts
ghosts don't exist
i/you/we
should learn to forget

Money, & computer idiots ( Read more... )

April 11th ( Read more... )

April 7th.

red trees against the sun
shadows of our time, black lines,
augurs of nothing.
The past not only lives in
thought but in people we know.

This started out to be something much grander but I just couldn't pull it off tonight. But I saved the lines that this is from, so maybe later something will come. Like Brer Rabbit running for his home ( Read more... )

April 6th.

She wrote,
"I hope that we can be true friends. It's possible."
How many times have men said that
hoping it was true or knowing they lied?
Sheila wasn’t lying. Or so I believe
or so I hope, for I still might try.
Until I wrote "No, not this time"
in an email my nerves jittered
and twanged like strings being tuned.
My nerve broke and I ( Read more... )

April 5th.

flowers blooming yet
clouds blow past the moon like geese,
there is ice underfoot.

April 4th ( Read more... )

April 3rd.

If dreaming masters
are butterflies, I am a
grasshopper, not deft
or colorful I still fly
in awkward leaps of vision.