So I haven't written a whole poem today, which is the first day this has happened so far. I haven't panicked about it, as I figure it is an inevitability. The deal, to myself, was always just to post a little something creative every day, and it is asking a bit much for that to be a poem every time, right? I'm asking the ether. It will, inevitably, only say what I want to hear.... And so, some notes. With a title.
Suspension
Out from under the lights everyone is
peach-coloured, a normal combination
of skin tones. It's hard to know,
sometimes, whether this or that is
the real, but sweating a layer of skin
off can only ever be a part-time job
no matter how good the music.
Documentation is an inevitability,
along with the pints of water.
I might be mid-air in that picture
you took, but that doesn't mean
I never landed.
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