Sand Paper Day

Today is a sand paper day.
That wood could be
as sensitive as this
makes me feel more
sympathy for the tree
that became a table
or chair.

Becoming is rough.
(Being is tough enough.)

Today is a rug burn day.
The kind your brothers gave you –
You remember –
Skin, heart, mind, spirit pulled in
opposite directions until
it stings.

Loving is rough.
(Living is tough enough.)

Dreams of Bears

I had my first dream about you last night:
I got the news that you had been mauled by a bear.
And I heard myself asking the question:
“Is he alright?”
And I knew that couldn’t be right.
And then my mind said:
No, it wasn’t the bear.
The bear was just the last thing
in a whole series of unfortunate things.
But that’s how it went.
That’s exactly how it happened.
Now, when someone asks me
the inevitable question of why you’re not here,
I’m going to tell them it was just the last bear.

The Red Pen of Doom murders THE FOUNTAINHEAD by Ayn Rand

Every time Ayn Rand’s name is mentioned, I have to reblog this amazing post. I’m sort of like Guy’s Zuzu. “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.”

Only in this case, “wings” = editorial decimation.


The Red Pen of Doom


Cover of The Fountainhead Cover of The Fountainhead

by Ayn Rand

Howard Roark laughed. (I approve of this. It asks a narrative question – who is this guy, and why did he laugh? – and I like short sentences anyway.)

He stood naked at the edge of a cliff. The lake lay far below him.A frozen explosion of granite burst in flight to the sky over motionless water.(Whoah, whoah, hold up. So far, it was all tight and Hemingway-esque. “The pants fit him. They felt good.” Now you suddenly switch to purple prose, with granite bursting in flight? I didn’t know that granite rocks flew, or exploded when they did decide to take wing. No.)The water seemed immovable, the stone flowing. The stone had the stillness of one brief moment in battle when thrust meets thrust and the currents are held in a pause more dynamic than…

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