Exactly 200 years ago today Lord Byron died of malaria in Missologhi, Greece. In observance of this day […]
Lord Byron
I woke up this morning With fewer steps ahead Then there are behind, As the incline increases In […]
The shadow stretches And grows As the sun sets Into the sea, Until all is darkness. From daybreak […]
I wasn’t born with a club foot I didn’t fight in Vietnam I didn’t teach at Columbia I […]
They say, “Don’t confuse Hamlet with Shakespeare,” Bill wasn’t an introspective indecisive Dane, Byron wasn’t Byronic, And Dylan […]
Allen was in Asgard reciting America and Singing the Buddhist Bible Blues for All-Father Odin While Bobby and Baldr compared […]
When I started this blog my intention was to share prose as well as poetry (though poetry will likely always be my main focus), but I have neglected to post any prose pieces until now.
Summer of a Doormouse is an unfinished prose project that I haven’t done any signifigant work on in many years. I have hopes of finishing it in some form someday, but, until then, I want to share it here and mayb get some feedback.
The Summer of a Doormouse
by John W. Leys
“When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), –sleep, eating, and swilling – buttoning and unbuttoning—how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a doormouse.”
– George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron (1788-1824) Journal Entry, dated 7 December 1813
Oðinn, Myrddin, Whitman, Blake, Can’t you see what’s now at stake, Who’s for real and who’s a fake? […]
“All these people that you mention Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame I had to rearrange their […]
To Lord Byron, On the Nature of Immortality You wanted to be a hero, An uncommon want In […]
John W. Leys 