[Poem a Day] “Clouds”

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To a certain extent, I’m glad technology remembers better than I do.

Facebook does a great job of dredging up little blips of who I was in high school and earlier on, pinging me every so often about a memory it wants to share. I cringe a little bit every time I check it out, but it’s like an old aunt pinching your cheek, telling you how chubby you used to be.

It’s sort of humbling.

[Poem a Day] “Dent In The Wall”

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There’s this English building back where I went to college. They held a lot of the creative writing workshops in the basement.

Right before you went down there for class, or to use the writer’s lounge, you’d have to pass this door that had been sharpied with the words “LOSE YOUR MIND” in all caps.

I don’t know if I’ve told you guys about that before, but I’m thinking about it a lot today for some reason.

[Poem a Day] “I’m Passive On Rides Home, Mostly”

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It’s interesting how much our mind relegates to routine. How much we’re prone to missing just because its part of something we see every day.

Drives home become more like loading screens while we absorb where we just were, and anticipate where we’re going to be, and everything between becomes static fuzz and waiting.

Can’t imagine how many sunsets I’ve missed because of how wholly invested I was in just getting back home.

[Poem a Day] “Love and Slow Drip”

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Poetry has recently become a bit of a game I play with myself.

Some of you might know I keep this wall of sticky notes at my writing desk. The space is plastered with lines that I came up with at some point but didn’t really have a poem for, so they just hang there waiting for me to take them down and use them somewhere.

And sometimes I put so many up that I start running out of space, meaning I have no choice but to start using some of them. They’ll start flooding over onto the photos on my wall if I don’t.

But once I use a few, suddenly there are these gaping holes in the lines of sticky notes, making my wall look slightly messier than it actually is. So I get the urge to patch things up with new notes, and more stray lines.

And I keep going back and forth, trying to make space and trying not to run out of lines to pull at the same time, all while not going overboard.

[Poem a Day] “Some Inhuman Patience”

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I’m trying to find homes for more and more lines – running out of sticky notes and space on my wall. This is what I like better about writing poetry, though. When I used to write exclusively novels, I’d struggle with having a mess of different ideas for stories that didn’t even pertain to the one I was currently writing. I’d end up constantly losing trains of thought deciding to either stay with the one I was on or jump ship for one I was feeling more strongly, and as a lot of you might know, it’s quite difficult to come back to a story after you’ve taken a break from it for a long time.

Poetry is like writing short stories, except even more wonderfully condensed. A vignette is enough to carry your lines, and you tend not to lose one in pursuit of another as easily.

[Poem a Day] “Backup Plan”

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I set up a BuyMeACoffee page the other day – less because I’m terribly hungry for donations, and more so that the option’s there in case anyone felt particularly generous. Threw the link up on my Instagram and on here, and set to work putting up some barebones info about how I’m Blue, and I write, blah blah blah –

Lo and behold, someone anonymously sends me a coffee on day one. $3 donation. It’s officially the first time I’ve ever been paid because of poetry.

Whoever you are, if you’re reading this, thanks so much. For even one person to say that my work was worth that – well, it’s really important to me. Cheers.