Holy shit, I made it through day three.
I’m not feeling particularly creative lately & plugging away at these projects has already become a bit of a chore because — holy fuck the world is burning I just want to lay in bed and scream most of the time.
But I’m getting through it & just finishing the Twine project alone would be a huge win. I’ve been trolling my friends with pieces of that story for months, but didn’t realize what a huge undertaking it was. I’m guessing I will have close to 100 individual sections by the time I’m through.
Anyway, onto today’s work…
Day three read
My third poetry selection is going to be ‘To Sleep” by John Keats. Read it all via the Poetry Foundation.
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,“To Sleep” John Keats
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light
Okay I need to come clean, I wanted to talk about a specific Tod Marshall poem, but I can’t find it online & my copy of “Bugle” is somewhere but I’m too lazy to find it.
So I just wrote my poem for the day & realized this Keats poem would work well with it. Also, I have a soft spot for Keats because he had no time for Lord Byron’s bullshit, but plenty of time to be soft & like cats & just be a delicate, old timey dude.
This particular poem has spoken to me for some years — as a person who consistently fails at shutting my stupid brain up so I can just pass the fuck out. I wrote some bad poetry with a few lines of the poem as an epigraph & a whole ass essay in college.
That said, I think I’ll spare the breakdown. Yeah, I’m fucking tired.
Day three poetry
I kind of went off the map on this one. I followed the prompt insomuch that I made a word bank with rhymes and slant rhymes. I just didn’t use them.
I ended up writing about sleep because it would be nice to fall asleep at night.
The accompanying art today is not great because I was just messing around with what my brush pens could do and found out too late that yellow and orange did not play well together. Oh well. I did an art & learned a thing.
I just wish I’d done a poppy since I ended up picking the Keats poem.
Stare the ceiling down
& imagine roses growing
among the stars, thorns
that open the chest
of Antares as constellations
kneel to pray for us; curtains
drawn against long days
& longer nights, dyed
with the blood of the sky.
I’m left to consider the weight
of it all as the light dims,
face as red as mars but not
yet at war. We were never
at war, my star, & you never
had my heart. Still, this vine
grows & tangles, dragging
galaxies through the lit clouds,
never able to build the conditions
of sleep. Never able to forget
the way you looked across a room
on a night that seems light years
away. Distance & time & all this
room to grow, my love. You never
had my heart, no. But you had me.
Day three Camp update
I almost forgot to update the draft total before midnight but I’m now at 6,523.
I was writing today’s Twine pieces while watching a stream & I’m pleased to report, it came out like pulling teeth. But I still got both of my daily sections done.
My cumulative goal is only 20,000 so I may be upping it if I can keep the momentum.