Written Under the Influence

Posted on May 6, 2005 in Prose Arcana

I kept writing while I was in the hospital. Lonely for my computer, I took out my notebook, wrote poems, long streams of consciousness, little gems such as this little piece where the goal was to write something that sounded like a story but which made no sense. The drugs in use at the time included xanax, vicodin, and residual traces of morphine:

First came the egg. When a postman passed the elegant bluegrass-covered terrace, he stopped to pick up the envelopes he had dropped. Then a snowy egret preened her fine tail feathers and pierced a passing trout. Once a zeppelin had flown this way — or was it a dirigible? A major disaster threatened the Orange County lowlands. Quickly, a barrister and a lawyer summoned Courage to testify in a case involving the resale of signatures to canvasback duck hunters. Ultimately, they closed the refrigerator and the red monk seal lumbered to his lair on the glacial slopes of Mount Muir.