Poems of the Electric Chair

That's kind of the way I felt when I read those words in the book.

Actually, when somebody says they have an electric chair just your size, it's not very nice, but it kind of reminds me of a totally different poem that I heard Johnny Cash recite: Ballad of the Harp Weaver by Edna St. Vincent Millay. It's really great. The last three words are "just my size". I think my brain got really, really mixed up, and I mixed that poem with the quote from the book and they don't have anything to do with each other, so you get a crazy poem that doesn't make any sense. My bottom line is that I recommend googling "Johnny Cash Ballad of the Harper Weaver" and playing it!

What the heck is the poet talking about? I'm always the last to know! I think my purpose was to chill Gershon to the bone. The two poems are only superficially related because they both involve electric chairs, and I was lazy to submit a separate poem...and also, since I thought they might not be very good poems, I'd lump them together. In that sense, they deserve each other. As I try to understand what I was trying to mean with the first one, I see it wasn't well "executed", if you'll pardon my pun. I might try a rewrite. I think it has promise. The second one is just stupid. If I explain it, then you'll know how dumb it is.

Thanks, Andrea. I'm reading The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, and when I got to that quote, it triggered something dark in my brain.

Thanks Ink - I'm doing OK. My mind just always seems to drift to the dark side now and then.

Sorry to hear you have back pain (if I understand). I used to have an electric massage chair. That's funny - I never made the connection - they're both electric chairs. I wonder if you can start with one and modify it to get the other.