Home - News - Where's Ed - Stories - Links - Email Ed - Guestbook - MySpace - Facebook - Goodreads
I'm not sure what will appear on this page over time. The Following works aren't so much experimental, but interesting. I, like many others, suffer from insomnia. And for those who don't know the details of insomnia, the sufferer often falls into this twilight world where they are not really awake and not asleep (watch Fight Club. The description is pretty spot on). Now, when I'm having a bout, I often get out of bed and read or watch TV. In the morning, I remember getting up, but not what I watched or read. Apparently, I also sometimes write. I've been finding pieces of work, stuffed into the back of a drawer, or hidden between the covers of a book. I know I wrote them, because I recognise my handwriting, but I have no memory of putting pen to paper. See - interesting, right? They're not going to set the world alight, but they're certainly open to interpretation - even I haven't a clue about what they mean. Subliminal writing, maybe . . . I dunno. How they appear here, is how I wrote them.
UNTITLED POEM: this one I found on the back of a shopping list that was stuffed into a drawer on my desk:
Bemoan the whale, lest
twilight prevail, upon
open ground and hallowed
sanctum. Upon greater
seas, over lost
monsters, like the
softest sigh, it leads
to you.
From legend's claws,
of wolves and men,
from fangs of demons
stagnant and grim,
the ashes of fire,
still carrying screams
of witches dark, true
or no. Still it leads
me back to you
AN ENVELOPE STORY: this one I found actually written on the back on an envelope in my kitchen:
My magic envelope could travel anywhere I wanted, just by thinking where I wanted it to go. However near or far, whether it was a place everybody knew or some strange land that nobody had heard of, my magic envelope would find the way. I didn't need a stamp, or to write the address; I just whispered the place I wanted it to go, and the envelope always knew the way. And best of all, when the delivery was made, the envelope always found its way back to me. Sometimes with things in it.