So this poem is a direct result of my wife making me clean up because we've got family coming in for the holiday. I found this buried in a stack of papers that I'd pulled out of an old binder. I'm pretty sure it's nearly 20 years old -- from around 1993-1994
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I wrote this about a year ago. In between my first marriage and my second one, I had a torrid, passionate, flame-out affair that sometimes still stuns me with the level of ferocity and pain it enabled
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So I've got a new Blog -- A Paper Muse -- which I will be linking to from here regularly. That blog will be devoted exclusively to my writing and related topics. The first substantive post is On the Subject of Independent Author Payments, specifically how Amazon.com is taking a huge cut vs. other, more indie publishing venues
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