Rent-A-Writer

Have you ever sat too long over a greeting card or staring at a computer screen, searching for words that refuse to come. The feelings are there. The sentiment, unquestionable. But language doesn’t always lend itself easily to the emotionally inscrutable. You might have not ever thought of it, but how much sense does it make to hire a creative freelance writer from time to time.

Words. Quality is a wavering shoreline always subject to changing tides. But there are writing formulas, phrases, plays on words and literary invention altogether. The mathematics of meaning. A sort of algebra except all letters with confusing little numbers in between.

Essentially, I don’t need to claim great literature or vast publication in order to declare myself a functional copywriter.

Say you needed an essay or cover letter proofread and edited, or you’re really serious about photograph captions, or have an experience you can describe but not fully, and wish to see it transcribed and applied to a poetic format. A short story idea. An article. A memory. Writing advice. Criticism. A note, or a letter even. A poem. Have you ever ordered a poem?

I am your go to poetry guy. It isn’t the easiest service to describe.
But if you’ve never ordered a poem before, I suggest giving it a try
before you give it up. The right line at the right time can change minds.
It can change everything. Words are only a frame.
They should never block the picture.

I’m half kidding. Only mostly joking. But hey, this would be the season.
What if I were running a special on one of a kind holiday dinner blessings
and Christmas card one liners.  Never been a better time to rent a writer.
We all have an abundance of irony in our lives right now.
It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

This is the season.
After all.
Let nothing be ineffable.

Another person’s grapes

Off to dig a hole that is deep and wide,
enough to bury three and a half foot of railroad tie,
to hang warped, ripped, busted cattle fence against,
to trellis not yet purchased baby grape vines.

Not a branch, a pole, a shovelful of it is mine.
Not even the seconds bloomed minutes written leaves hours.

At work toward a harvest you will never taste is grace.
And grace is building trellises for another person’s grapes.