[Poem a Day] “Tonic and Time Machines”

Check out today’s post on Instagram.

I’m not sure I believe a lot of the people that try to insist their writing isn’t really for anyone but themselves.

I mean sure, therapeutic writing may be a thing – I can appreciate the value of journaling, but there’s just something to the act of making a contrived thought physical that makes it a little less sacred than a thought floating in your head. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing – it’s what I do on a daily basis by putting a piece up on IG every day, and blogging on here.

The moment you write something – the moment you create a physical artifact containing a thought, a feeling, an emotion – you create a means for someone other than yourself to appreciate it. And I think that desire might be a subconscious thing, no matter what you’re bringing into being.

At the same time, I think in writing for other people, you’re also unconsciously creating for yourself. Pieces become artifacts of a moment – small fragment of you as you were in the moment of writing that piece. That moment becomes concrete along with the work.

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