asmevadan's profile
AGE:
48
LOC: Shepherdstown, WV
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: May 04
LOC: Shepherdstown, WV
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: May 04
I fell in love with reading and writing very early, and by 15 or so I knew I wanted to be a writer. I travelled widely during my childhood and my writing reflects an interest in exotic locations and mythological themes—over the years, centaurs and Gilgamesh have emerged as my main literary obsessions (for the relevance of these images to my personal life, please check with my therapist ;).
Though I am a published poet, over the years I’ve come to believe that writing is not principally about fame and fortune—even in societies that value writing highly (like China or Russia), the life of the best writers is not easy. Friendship, or more broadly speaking, community, count for much more, and many great pieces have been composed on the…
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13 Reviews
7 Comments
1. of all of them there was only one and not the one I would have thought I am the one who knows the words she said the one who holds your eye no fear on my face sleep on my brow but passing toward the rain the lights 2. I am one she said the voice unbroken like sand cutting your skin I am one the dance you never untangled a million of them waving in the leaves of spring I am one I am one the disappearing rooms I am one streaking the edge of sight net of the world I am one the boy’s gun grin ...
Version 1
10 Reviews
3 Comments
Revision is a hard sell— angels think it mainly a speculative venture like the grapes left in my satchel all day, juice oozing over the creased and fragrant leather: something was intended. I who have no other option might say that beauty is a mistake, the pain of disappointment like an extra stroke dropped from the glyph. It can be that easy. But in the meantime, back at the ranch and so forth, the angels are still uncertain and the Pharaohs aren’t giving them much help— stored up like mothe...
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8 Reviews
1 Comment
But I digress. The real beginning of my story is much more casual than all these musings. One morning during the third year of my Guardianship, I was breakfasting on pears and nuts in the sunroom at the Residence. The sunroom is a pleasant place, with its narrow, tall windows, marble parquet floors scattered with tables and chairs, its palms in bright blue and yellow standing vases. The breakfast was made even more agreeable by the fact that I did not often get the chance to enjoy this quiet...
Version 1
10 Reviews
4 Comments
Story creates belief. When I was young I did not understand this. In the great house where I grew up, storytelling was the art of the poor. I heard tales of the wood-daughters from our nurses and maids, of the singing shells from the reedmen (listened to guiltily while my father was out of earshot), of the men who journeyed up Inib stream into the forest of the sibyls and did not return. Of course I also heard stories from my tutors, but these were true: of the old capital, ruined, lying in ...
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0 Reviews
0 Comments
Though I’ve never been there I set out anyway climbing for hours among foggy peaks wandering among dense forests no room for a path lost in remote mountains, I rejoice at the sound of a bell, strain to guess its direction a torrent’s proud song disappears behind ominous rocks and the streaming sunlight breaks coldly on bruised, blue-green pines in the half-light I stumble beside a dark lake composing myself I begin to meditate— banish the watery dragon # # #
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Reviews
Some writers live in their stories; others are tourists. Unless you are being pursued by your story idea like someone running from a serial killer, you are just running away from your greatness. This writer has a fine command of the language and familiarity with the mystery genre, but these are not enough to engage readers. So here are my suggestions: 1) Research. When writing a form as popular as mysteries, authors must constantly be introducing unexpected but satisfying elements into the p...
A happy end to the wandering life of a trickster poet? Penelope looking a bit dowdy in all that exalted light? Ex-salted? Sorry, it really is getting late... Hell, I thought only college professors were supposed to write poems about Homer, so what are you worrying about? The poem reads well....don't tell me your teach English Lit?!? My entire view of academic poetry may come tumbling down... OK, I'll be serious: the poem works well, and I like the unexpected echoes and the fact that some wri...
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