Reading Dave Rogers post about evil, love, and fear prompted me to unearth the following poem, based on a true happening. Unearthing the poem has prompted me to plan to do an Open Mike poetry reading this Monday night. It’s something I’ve been thinking about doing. This time I’m letting the fear go.
Hunting
On the rise beyond the stream
on Trout Mountain,
they say, he shot himself
Gorgeous, Elaine.
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Beautiful.
The Hunter, or the Hunted?
Deeply touching. Frighteningly close to home in some deep internal ways. Do go read, Elaine. Go.
You have the makings of a terrific story or book here. Consider it.
Yeah, but see, that’s the problem. I can take a long, complicated story and carve it into a poem, but I’ve never been able to sustain writing a long prose piece. You’re right, though. If I ever give it a shot, the story surrounding the writing of this poem would be a great place to start. Thanks.