I remove my makeup, but not my mjolnir could be a line in a really bad poem I'm not writing tonight about what I did when I got home and got directly into bed. The only thing I really took off was some red lipstick and a bra, but makeup sounds better with mjolnir, and the poem is much too banal to write anyway, so it's a moot point. (Moot: another word I would work in there if I were actually writing this poem. Viking connotations and, by other definitions, a reoccurring central image of my life right now) It seems important to report to my blog that I am at least thinking of writing poems, even if they are small, unwanted travesties.
Today, I have felt like a profound and utter failure in practically every regard. How's that for a dramatic whiny blog post for you?
I sympathize strongly with Ada Limon in the end of her poem Hardworking Agreement with a Wednesday and I will reproduce it here for the sake of tomorrow (today, oh) being Wednesday and for me bartering already with what promises to be a testing day.
Dear Today,
I have said too much, yet give me this--
I want to be a physical doll, just for now,
a stupid, splendid thing
tumbled into the touchable day.
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