[Poem a Day] “Copper and Chlorine”

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At some point in my life, I stopped tossing change into wishing wells. That’s not a sweeping metaphor for blind belief or something like that – I literally just kind of stopped tossing change into wishing wells, mall fountains – anything like that.

And I’m not really sure why. I think that even as children, we get to a certain point where we acknowledge the low probability of your deepest desires boiling down to a grimy quarter in a filthy indoor fountain, but even after that point, we sort of just hold to the tradition. We toss change into the water more for the ideal of it all – for the romanticism – that wishful feeling as gumball money sinks below the surface.

[Poem a Day] “The Rough Cut”

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A little something longer for today. Hopefully you like it.

I used to shoot videos a lot – artsy little productions with soft music in the background, color graded with the warmth turned up, close ups on coy smiles, the whole nine. I guess I liked it because it wasn’t too different from constructing a poem. A blurry focus slowly coming into vision, a drifting lens, isolated little snippets of eternity strung together for you to play on repeat when you miss it.

[Poem a Day] “Grinding Away”

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There are days that you’re painfully aware that you’re counting.

You don’t want to count – you never want to count – but nowadays, the language of numbers is bundled in with the business of words more than ever. You bite back the urge to settle for what works, and do your best to write what you’ve got.

You try to spend less time making tallies and more time putting yourself on the page.

You try to stay honest.

[Poem a Day] “A Synopsis”

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By our fourth year, most of us seemed jaded. Or maybe it was just the people I’d go drinking with. There seemed to be this grand blanket of disillusionment that settled over us as we settled into the motions of picking classes, arranging schedules, confirming graduation dates…

…don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret a thing. Well – maybe save for not writing sooner.

[Poem a Day] “Skeletal Everything”

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You usually know autumn’s here before you even open your eyes in the morning. The sheets hug you just a little bit closer – the cling of the bed lasts just a few minutes longer than it usually does. There’s a hint of chill in the bedroom air that doesn’t restrict movement – it just kind of slows it for a little bit. You linger there for a little while, sort of pretending to still be asleep. There’s a faint itch for warmth in your bones.

[Poem a Day] “People Fall In Love At Crosswalks All The Time”

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This has to happen, right?

I mean, in the big scheme of things, the probability of someone falling for another someone are incredible when you zoom out just a little. Even before the awkward icebreakers, testing the water, getting to know them – even before any conversation period, you have to deal with the probability of two human beings meeting at some point and actually taking the step into interaction. Without that segue into everything else, what else even happens?

You reach the other side of the crosswalk. Your head’s still down. Nothing has changed.

[Poem a Day] “Diet Pepsi”

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Dig deep enough into most things and you’ll find a story, and when you’re applying that concept to your writing, you don’t even necessarily need to stop at people. Look out the window the next time you’re driving somewhere, you when you step out from a shop onto the street. Fixate on an object – something that grabs your attention. How did it get there? What was happening to it the day before? If it’s in disrepair, how was it broken? What memories are attached to it?

Sometimes, discarded objects create interesting vignettes.