I split my poem writing about 50/50 between computer and journal. As magical as it can be to scratch something onto paper with ink, there’s an aspect of typing mechanics that’s appealing as well.
This is a poem that was written in my journal and I came across it last night as I went back through the last couple weeks transferring handwritten poems into digital files. It’s recent and hasn’t had much editing at all – if any (honestly can’t remember if I made any changes last night). Here ya go.
backscattering turning the broken mirror around, spiderweb cracks full of stories & broken promises - we are never who we expect in reflection: the funhouse turns us agoggle & oblong, terrifying & troubling. and what’s worse? this is the purest truth. our humanity seemingly in hundreds of pieces, dust-caked & tarnished - we are a lost tribe of hopeful fools searching for enlightenment, our wanderings across these cracked paths are biblical while our faith in each other rots by the day. turning the broken mirror around, there’s just not enough light - one last shard of sunshine left… to see some shred of future in one of a hundred reflections, a wisp of a thing, really; but just enough to draw the eye in, wipe away some dirt & whisper: “it’s enough.”