VINYL POETRY

Volume 1, August 2010

BIRDIE
Franz WrightView Contributor’s Note

The Writing

It was finished. He glanced at his watch, like the doctor who pronounces time of death. Then he went to bed. Outside the wind was blowing. Some more hours passed; he opened his eyes. And on the whole he was pleased to have awakened once more, even though he still wasn’t that good at it, and found it so painful and strange.