Bad poetry is fun.

Apologies to the faint of heart.

Here is a rough draft of a bad poem. My index finger is very sore, and so typing is kind of rough at the moment. So I thought I would put a video blog on here instead. Yet I can't resist the urge to type some meaningless crap here as well, to make excuses for how bad the poem is.

Also of note, my new copy of Stephen King's Secret Windows: Essays and Fiction on the Craft of Writing came in the mail today.
Oh well. If I could just get out of the house and go drown my sorrows in an Indian buffet, my blogging audience could have been spared all this carnage.