So as I get ready to go on my trip (only three more days!) I have been nudged into posting some of my writing here. Believe me, I'm far more terrified than you are.

But I guess this works. For the Open Call, I was going to make a post about how I was addicted to writing, but who wants to read people's Thoughts on Writing when they're not written by Stephen King? And one of the most important tenets of writing is "show, don't tell" after all.

So here's a short poem I wrote a few years ago. I didn't know which one to post, so I started with the one I've won money off of. I also posted a gorgeous illustration that my friend Laura Laurain did for me after reading this poem at the beginning of the post. Enjoy!

Narcissus

Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection
on the shores of San Francisco, even when
fully aware of the difficulties involved
in pulling him out of the water
and coaxing him into a church.
He can't promise his reflection sickness and health
when health is a scarce commodity,
he's stuck with clandestine candlelit dinners
because people are starting to talk,
slipping him the phone numbers of normal girls
rather than watery illusions,
but he doesn’t have the willpower to
walk past mirrors and shop windows
and keep his eyes tightly shut.
They can't be bound together
through life and death and paperwork,
not when gods and goddesses only
regard one as real, and the other
as some unattainable fantasy
who watches from the water,
worrying that some day
Narcissus will evaporate.