Now is a good time to mention that I am about to hit the one year mark of this version of Poem-A-Day. I've been debating what I want from this thing and have found myself deciding to alter how these work.
So...the project will continue, but I'm going offline.
I will still post 2-3 poems a week on here, but the majority of the poems will live in a physical, handwritten form. This is to free up the project from the constraints of blogger and to give me a bit of breathing room to explore posting more essay-type things on this blog.
I may start posting more of them to Instagram or Twitter as a result. We will see.
I Look Terrible In Photos
In every photo of myself I am a tree , arms reaching out their wires attempting to dig a wall , being a tree in photographs results in a body that is constantly a seedling , it never fruits , always in flower , I remember the smallness of the earth and the press of roots but there is little calling from the sun , it is an orb in the sky that will not quit smiling , a cruel thing that , the camera an eye unblinking ( an image no one has thought of before ) , a shield pitted with arrows , here are the results of the capturing , the soul is iced and held and in constant summer clothing , eyes will never catch the glint of the stars because the stars are forever behind the blueness of daylight , the sun has won here and the wooden feeling in the body has as well , in every damn photo I stand there with a hunch and the arms of a dead man , it laughs in its suit and tie , the blue of blood pops in the black and white of the moment , here everyone , an offering .
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