Rough Draft

I missed a day of completing a piece for NaPo – yesterday and since I’ve been catching up on sleep and trying to get over my SEAF hangover, I haven’t really produced squat today.  However, the fact that I’ve only gotten like four lines written really isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.  My body and attention is not the same every day.  I am, however, at my desk for at least an hour – just sitting my fat ass down at the desk makes me available, as does moving my hand even if it’s like moving a claw.

So here are my lines for each day.  We’ll see if any of these buds really grow.

From the 25th:

Green is the color of skin in the aureola

From today, the 26th of April:

His heart is a hollow sphere, an iridescent surface which captured
the warmth of my breath at our first kiss. The ease with which
he might rupture

So, here’s another finished poem I distributed at SEAF but which did not do so well.  All the other cards were taken, but the Miami, 1964 was not a popular poem at the Erotic Art Festival.

Miami 1964

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