I wrote this poem a while back and it’s always been one of my favorites.
I set the words in lead type and printed the broadside in 2015. There is something gentle about the way the ink falls on the paper. This paper was run through the press twice. Oddly, I never really put it out much even though it truly is a beautiful sheet, printed on dot paper.
Recently I've been struggling to face some of the painful skeletons of my past and it's been kind of trippy tbh, difficult to simply state how I feel. I'm working through. Revisiting old work that sort of got over looked through the years has helped. I experience this poem now (though it has never left me - even in this video I am reciting from memory) and I see it still applies. I see that it was creating this that allowed some of the pain to leave me and it's a relief to recall that the process of this was healing on it's own, without an audience.
