Keith got my ancient laptop (circa 1985! Yeah baby!) to work again! That means I have not lost all my old work. I can't even express how much this means to me. I'm going to be busy typing out all my old stuff, the stuff worth keeping, into newer forms of technology.
Here's one of my favorite ones. This was a very vivid dream of mine that I tried to capture in words.
Eulogy to the Author
No frenzied baying here, no wild uplifted cries
when leash-loosed these hounds were.
But swift and silent to their task, limbed long
and scurry footed, a scrabble of nails on rock.
A foul deed, a foul thought, a vengeance all at once
as after our quiet author they plummeted.
Thatched roofed, garden wrapped and hearth warmed
his dwelling who, we unthinking, of us thought.
Betrayal! we beheld his inky pen, his furrowed brow,
knew we all when knew we him who to our rescue came
Despite the plot. To our settled deaths he could not us
allow to fall, fate wrapped his hand, time unravelled fell.
The dreadful villein, making bold, masked maker's face
to his revenge, too late our author knew his fate.
Too strong by far his nemesis was allowed, when
thwarted of first evil will by rightful revision.
Hate laced, upon rabid annihilation bent, the arch enemy
ignored th'escaped hero and brought down our author!
Who had known all now sat unknown in fireside chair,
out gazing from his window, awaiting those hounds,
Who'd leap somewhere from dry page to bring him
down among his papers, throat torn, hero rescued.
