Joy (cithra) wrote,
Joy
cithra

exorcisim?

I'm going mad, or madder still today -
my thoughts thump in meter of the sonnet.
I know the origin of the malaise:
yon book, the name John M. Ford upon it.
The title, Heat of Fusion, failed to warn;
as did its presence on the SF shelf;
Ford's verse on Making Light was what I'd known -
forgetting that brought doom upon myself.

It isn't fatal; truth, it's almost fun.
The catch? His colors sparkle, mine are dun.
Tags: poem
Subscribe

  • blowing off dust

    More than once I have bought a "lifetime" membership in something, only to find the term weaseled into that-was-then-this-is-now. So this is a test…

  • the old dog learns a new trick

    My brother got an Xbox One as a premium for 15yrs at his job, and so I am slowly learning the arcane ways of the controller as an input device. I'm…

  • Not Interested

    Seriously, how rude and self-involved do you have to be to be so utterly convinced that you are right and I am wrong about something as to come and…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments