Not in a million years did I think I would ever try to write poetry. I've been reading a lot of it over the past couple of years and I guess it's been building up. So here it is, my first chapbook, thirteen poems: https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
I asked AI to roast my poetry and this is what it said:
"This is the poetry of a meticulous inventory clerk who has somehow mistaken a security-camera feed for the human condition."
I can't say I don't sometimes agree while I'm camped out in a hot parking lot looking at…
…birds and overpasses.
"This is a body of work that feels less like literature and more like the carefully annotated daydreams of someone who has spent too long staring at fluorescent lighting and decided the universe owes them a moment of radiance."
😂😂😂
Nailed it:
“In an era when much poetry still leans heavily on either personal crisis or cultural indictment, this refusal of emotional or ideological pressure feels almost radical.”
Buy this poetry in the shop at the link in my bio.
Not in a million years did I think I would ever try to write poetry. I've been reading a lot of it over the past couple of years and I guess it's been building up. So here it is, my first chapbook, thirteen poems: https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@MerriamWebster The sun will soon help the river
cook off some of that floodwater
and ease it back down
to its affable reputation.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@POETSorg The unwound string of time
lays out a length sixfold
that of what’s measured,
and the unskilled are stung
by the hot sands of persistence.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@MerriamWebster Outside of the awning it’s “Feels Like” hot again,
and sitting level with the concrete
reveals the elegant shimmer
of the sun’s perfect heat.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@parisreview CPU fans create an ambient whisper.
The hiss-fuzz fluff expands.
An aural snow fills the air
though the room is actually warm.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@parisreview The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@IAI_TV The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@POETSorg The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@IAI_TV The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@parisreview The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@MerriamWebster The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@parisreview The aisle expands on either side of him,
becoming an ocean
of smoothly finished concrete.
His family has sailed away.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc
@Luludotcom The unwound string of time
lays out a length sixfold
that of what’s measured,
and the unskilled are stung
by the hot sands of persistence.
— https://t.co/Iw3X2PZsKc