Rain on Rust

New prose/poem/story, about a dog.

The prompt was to write an event, using three vignettes: prose, free verse, and rhyme.

Rain on Rust.


You can write this thing.

I know it’s a mess in your head. And you’re busy.

And I know you’ve got a story. A great, green glob of a story. You might not know the details yet, but you know they’re there, somewhere, in that mess in your head.

And I know that stringing together the hours and days and brain cells it would take to write through the mess is probably a pipe dream.

But that’s only if you try to write the forest.

You don’t need to write the forest.

You need to get high enough to see the forest, map it out, and write the trees, one at a time, in the little minutes and hours you salvage from your day.




You can do it.