I wouldnโt kill your pony. Iโd like to believe it, anyway. Iโd like to believe I wouldnโt drag you out in to the woods and leave you there, either. So far, it hasnโt come up.
Richard SikenHere I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back.
Richard SikenI don't know where I end and the world begins. My best guess? Skin. It's the only actual boundary between the body and the world, between a body and any other body.
Richard SikenThe narrator blames the birds. And you want to blame the birds as well. I blamed the birds for a long time. But in this story everyone is hungry, even the birds. And at this point in the story so many things have gone wrong, so many bad decisions made, that itโs a wonder anyone would want to continue reading.
Richard SikenWe have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the heroโs shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.
Richard SikenIโve been rereading your story. I think itโs about me in a way that might not be flattering, but thatโs okay. We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. Anyway: story received, story included. You looked at me long enough to see something mysterioso under all the gruff and bluster. Thanks. Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
Richard Siken