Big news that may go nowhere! Circle of Confusion, the agents that sold "the Matrix", amongst others, havee asked to read my newest screenplay! Odds are nothing of note will happen, but it's still the biggest agent so far to respond to me!

There is much Snoopy dancing abounding.

victor - - that's great! It's hope - - you know - - much better than no response or a form letter.

yay, victor. I expect to say "I knew you when!" except for the not actually meeting part.

Thanks sumi and Erikaj. I am very excited. It'll probably come to nothing, but it's a pretty big door to have gotten through. (:

Yay, Victor!

raising glass

To Victor!

draining glass. refilling. Hell with the glass.

Go Team Victor!!!

Sooo totally not writing anything at present. V. sad.

A teeny tiny unpolished poem from some 6 or 7 years ago. I apologise most profusely if it makes anyone bleed from the eyes, but I've never had anyone help me out with the poetry thing. Moderately tactful advice greeted with gratitude. I'm buggered if I know what to do with the punctuation for this. I know how it sounds, but the punctuation is hit and miss. Anyway:

Echoes

Delicate:
the brush of lashes against lips;
my breath upon your skin.

Tender:
the pressure of warm walls of flesh;
passion lying languid in a tangle of limbs.

Faylove, I'd lose both 'the's and the 'lying' in the last line. Much better rhythm. Read it aloud, you'll see.

I can feel it, sense the drowsy warmth, smell the slightly bed-fugginess. Would expect no less from you.

Edit--I'm a fan of line breaks as punctuation. They seem to have done the work for you here, you don't really need semis and commas and the like. Line breaks work just fine, IMO

Bev gives the best edit ever. Just appreciation of this thread and its denizens.

New poem.

FOGGY POEM 


I'm tired of the incandescence of your smile. The air 
near me is heavy, humid, curling 
around the edges. Six days of rain and I can feel my 
humor wearing through with touch; my patience gumming 
from the persistent fogging of your breath. 
The sun is down for the count. I am riveted by your voice, 
and the new grass growing on the lawn. 
Soft shoots of green. You brush my hair: 
your clever fingers seeking out my knots. 
The rain returns. The blade is sharp. 
I click my fingers. Step away. 

It has its problems. But I like it so far.