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Typewriter Series #3083
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Holy my goodness, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted a new, unread, Typewriter Series poem. Today is that day. Things have dramatically stalled on getting new people to sign up for this here Signal Fire, and stalled even harder (and heartbreakingly I’ve even lost some of you brave souls) on the paid community front. I know it seems silly, but this is a big hit to my livelihood and it just makes it harder and harder to keep putting out all the art I put out on a daily basis. That said, I thought, maybe infusing more poetry into here, would be something to do to help. We’ll see I suppose.
So, going forward, I’m going to keep posting poetry in here, exclusive to this Signal Fire for the first few weeks or months, and it’ll be a little extra that maybe will help sweeten the pot to join us as paid subscribers!
This one, Typewriter Series #3083, is a love-letter to the human form, the form of my wife, and all of the pieces she, and so many women, think they need to hide. It’s that which we call imperfections, the “flaws,” that truly make us beautiful. Each line where we grew, each mark from our mistakes, from a life of celebration, of hardship, of joy. This is where I’m drawn, this is what I find so stunning.
Here’s the poem: