Monday, August 16, 2004

Preface to my Last Chapbook

The gaunt man charged into the room and began scrawling on the white sheets of paper on the oak desk. Light faded, he continued. His pen went dry. In angst, he used it to slice open his left wrist. He began writing again using the blood. When they found him he was lying with sheet after sheet before him screaming, "I am, I am, I ..."


Blogger Matt said...

You are so kafka-esque, you are so kafka-esque, you are so samuel beckett, you are so samuel beckett...

1:05 PM | Permalink  

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