Rejection letters, correspondence, and miscellanea from the otherwise empty annals of the Journal of Universal Rejection.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
You had a dream that turned back time.
There was a scent of wildflowers
--or was it fir trees?
You were outside, in a field,
--or were those flower-vases in a hall?
The sun sailed on its course Eastward,
--or was it splendglorious ballroom lights ticking on
tick one after another
like crabs scuttling the floors of forgotten Ocean?
You found yourself casting off the last years
The meetings, disappointments, chalky tedium
Fell like rust-eaten shackles from your limbs.
Faces turned to meet yours,
Smiling, mouths open but hushed.
Anticipation surged in your blood.
You were attending the Conference of Universal Rejection.