Wearing Out

Oh boy . . . I'm getting tired of writing a poem a day. I feel I started with quite the flourish, but now I'm laboring . . . my drafts are feeling more and more forced and my inner critic is getting more critical.

I'm going to persist, though. Maybe something workable will come from the schlock.

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All that being said, I printed out all my pages and it's clear I've got a book and a half between what I've started here, and my other writings. I know it's two books because of the content and the tone. The half book is a lot darker and external while the whole book does have some darker poems, but also has junctures where the "I" doesn't take itself seriously.

For the "whole" book, I need a "pivot foot," to use a basketball term--a poem or an idea that allows the body of the book to rotate. Yes, there are several similar poetic sequences, but tonally, many of them are quite distinct.

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I'm finding that it's easier for me to write narratives while donning a mask. Maybe that's my latent Catholicism preventing me to lie as myself.

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Man, that VQR Book Series makes gorgeous books. Just read through Boy, now I'm reading Field Folly Snow. I had read The History of Anonymity, of course, and I love it. It's really interesting to see this book series come together. The voices are quite different, which is an admirable thing for a book series. The covers--lovely, and I wouldn't mind having a book published with that series.

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I need to pick up a book that's highly lyrical--so much so that the narrative or the concept of the narrative is emotive. Weird request, I know, but got any recommendations?

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I'm going to try to finish up my new prose poem project this September . . . I've got a ton of "Dear Empire" poems that need to be typed.

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I want a Hershey's Dark Chocolate bar.