An Ode to William Faulkner

Twirling twirling throughout the house, my dear, dead Mr. Faulkner, how you've brought me great joy. How creative I've become nay inspired. How lovely are your words and how they haunt me so. I wish I could write as such and stand toe to toe. Oh Mr. Faulkner, if that is your real name, I've caused such great pain, but you kept me sane.

With your red, red roses, and a knock at the door.

And the music envelopes the room and I offer a prayer to the late great William Faulkner, as the Calvary comes through the eye of the storm. The music is loud, the shouts are louder, but I smile because of you Mr. Faulkner. 

And as they burst through the basement, releasing an ocean of flies and odor, I can't help but place a rose over the heart of the great William Faulkner. 

Or someone like him. It's hard to keep track of these things.