I’ve been going through my writing archives and compiling a master document of preferred editions of my work. It feels like we’re all one reckless cough away from death, and I hate to leave a mess to clean up after I’m gone.
Early in my career (like, 1998-early), I sometimes wrote poems with ideas that didn’t quite sustain a whole story. Here’s one that I’m trying to decide if it should go into the omnibus.
Waiting for biscuits, crunchy butcher-sweeping goodness in a box!
If I watch the baby, I’ll get biscuits.
Don’t let criminals get the baby.
Don’t lick the baby and wake her up.
Watch the baby until Mama gets home from the supermarket.
She’s bringing home biscuits!
Seeping from the laundry chute in a gray, billowy thundercloud.
Keep the baby safe from smoke.
Smoke comes from fire.
Fire could hurt the baby.
Get the baby from the crib and run.
Save the baby!
Sparkling, flickering, melting fur and tail with red-orange fingers.
Keep running down the stairs
Don’t stop because of your burning tail.
Don’t stop because of your simmering lungs.
Run outside away from fire.
Save the baby!
Burning through my fur and
PRIMARY SYSTEMIC FAULT IN LOCATIONS
0010 0000 0E00 008E
00E0 08E0 0880 0000
BACKUP SYSTEM ONLINE
Run through the door!
Get through door without hurting baby;
If no Paramedic then Fireman Else Policeman
If WATCH BABY then BISCUITS Else BAD DOG
ERROR LOCATION 08E0
Place baby on ground gently, like a puppy.
INITIATE PRIMARY SHUTDOWN
AUDITORY INPUT SUBSYSTEM
VALUE = “Good boy! We'll take care of her now.”