But to make up for it, this week I wrote TWO small poems. And they're both new. They're acrostics, a form I never played with before.
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The first one spells out "Ravenage", an archaic form for, well, pillage, basically. Here are the first nearly four lines:
Trickster
Raven: bird of paradox, the transformer, transplanting
Antagonist of his own fictions, unpredictable as seasons
Venal, voracious, vandalous creator, mischievous glutton of
Everything lustrous, everything slick with life's fat.
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This one spells out "The Empty City", which is the working title of the novel I plan to start revising in August:
The awakening. Face in rubble and rough weeds. Alone.
Her lover gone as though he had never been. Her anger as
Empty walls crumble around her like a whitewashed face.
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As always sponsors and cheerleaders get to see the full poems. So lucky they are!
