“There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” (W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM)

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Co-Poets pt. 5 (revisions cont.)

The next revised piece comes from my brother Chad Austin. While staying pretty true to the original with the language, the ending reveals a different theme than the one I thought we were working with while doing the collaboration.

Bird Song

I can't wait to remember
all the things I 've forgotten
memories like fallen leaves
litter forest floor, naked trees shivering
watching sunlight tiptoe

slipping between the shadows
of consciousness, breathe deep
fill the empty space with
sweet, damp smells
black earth oozing between bare toes

the rot of nostalgia
like grandfather's attic
packing and unpacking trunks
that carried dreams to a new land
now gathering dust and photographs

left with a sick feeling in
the pit like decomposing fruit
a recognized relic, grandmother's
hat box stuffed with letters, and a feather
bird song shatters my silence


  1. I really like what you did with the last two stanzas here...

  2. I like the contrast of birdsong with the "rot" motif.