[Poem a Day] “Urban Morse Code”

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Christ, some weeks seem insurmountable.

Not even in a “this will challenge my body and soul” kind of way. More like you’re holding a list in your hand that stretches from you, to the floor, to the door – and nothing on it is absolutely taxing. You won’t break your back over any of it. It’s just a lot all at once, and you feel the slow drain of quickly moving from one thing to the next.

Gotta keep moving out there. The same goes for you guys, too.

[Poem a Day] “Round Trip”

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Buy me a coffee

It feels odd to think of spending any elongated amount of time somewhere I can’t hear the trains howl.

Don’t get me wrong, I know they exist, it just feels strange. It’s just a sound that’s just so deeply ingrained in my head as something I hear when I’m at home that it’s become a comfort whenever I hear that low hoot in the distance. It’s never far from most of the places I go when I want to think, get coffee, shop around – my favorite bar is literally three blocks away from a train station.

[Poem a Day] “Around and Around”

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(Buy me a coffee Coffee is nice. Who doesn’t like coffee? )

Been messing around with some mod podge and mini canvases, trying to get the hang of making some miniature prints of individual poems. They’re all test prints so far, but once I’ve got a better handle of the actual process of getting a clear print to show up on the canvas, I should be able to flex my dust-riddled Adobe Illustrator bones a bit and make a little merch I can start giving out over Instagram.

More on that later.

[Poem a Day] “Just a Bit of False Advertising”

Check out today’s post on Instagram.

(Buy me a coffee Coffee is not required, but always appreciated)

Got featured for the first time in a while yesterday. The page seemed like a relatively new Instagram poetry features account, but they actually pulled from one of my much older pieces, which I was definitely happy to see.

I’ve got 320 posts on my Instagram page now, meaning that rounds out to around maybe 300 or so poems posted since I started this in July. I never used to keep portfolios, so it’s an interesting thing to have an actual log of my work from a period of time onwards – something that lets me (and everyone else – yikes) see the progression from where I started to where I am.

I know I haven’t said this in a while, but I’m humbled that you all – Instagram and WordPress alike – have stuck with me this long. It’s a nice feeling to be read and hopefully appreciated in any capacity, and I’ve got my audience to thank for that.

 

[Poem a Day] “A Moment of Traffic Dread”

Check out today’s post on Instagram.

I realize how weird the [Poem a Day] bracket looks when I post – especially since I don’t even necessarily post on here or Instagram every day. I’m much more dutiful on Instagram, and even there I manage 5 or 6 uploads a week. Which I don’t think is bad by any means – there have definitely been times where I’ve felt absolutely burnt out when it comes to writing, and just powered through regardless.

[Poem a Day] is more like a personal exercise for myself to have something written every day – even if I don’t post it. When I’m not writing and formatting for posts on social media, I’m doing stream of consciousness writing in my notebook and picking out good lines to throw onto my idea wall, or revising old poems for either submission or compilation. It’s more to have something to show for myself when the day’s done, and less me throwing something up on Instagram just to do so.

[Poem a Day] “Passing Flashes”

Check out today’s post on Instagram.

There’s something oddly reassuring about seeing lit windows when you’re driving home at night.

There’s little to make you feel much of a sense of camaraderie in the suburbs. Not to say that it’s hell out here – it isn’t, I think it’s just reflex to say so – and civic duty, community involvement, town halls, and local Facebook pages were never really my speed.

I suppose that’s why I like the occasional glance at the passing windows that I’d otherwise leave to my peripheral vision. It’s the most subtle feeling of “I’m here, you’re here, and we’re all still kicking it out there” you can ever catch on the way home.