I am a poet.
I write poems.
Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.
With the bunting yet to abate and no end to its replication in sight (seriously, do these things reproduce asexually or something?), the Club-Footed Gremlin begins packing his things in search of greener pastures, where arbitrary decoration doesn’t dictate your directives.
Bindle over shoulder, our hero takes one look behind him before setting off on that old dusty trail–he really didn’t put a whole lot of thought into this pilgrimage, seeing as he has no mode of transportation and, well, a club foot.
It’s at this moment that Mr. Gremlin Man (the moniker he’s hoping will stick, or even just MGM for short) decides to go the whole nine yards and make like the pilgrims of old by prostrating himself and crawling to his destination. That definitely sucks, since he has a whole steamer trunk full of crap he wanted to lug around with him in the event of any one of numerous hijinks and/or shenanigans he may encounter.
But no, minimalism is apparently the name of the game here. MGM frets for a minute about how he’s going to sate his addiction to instant gratification, but then remembers the phone in his front pocket. As long as he can get to some outlets before the day is over, he will be able to rest easier and charge hardier.
Inundated by swirling squirrels (plural), my world unfurled and I hurled at the girl–named Shirl– who told Earl, who told Pearl.
Word spreads fast around these parts nowadays. Definitely a far cry from stacking turtles and expecting some kind of a turtle volume discount.
The world doesn’t revolve around my every concern, I must constantly remind myself; it simply revolves around the vast majority of my concerns, which is not bad (as far as I’m concerned).
Regardless, I’ve shifted my priorities toward more avian-oriented pursuits in lieu of proper purpose fulfillment. I once naïvely wondered if my blundering about could be prevented by taking a step too far off the beaten path. They never manage the nettles or brambles out there, and the poison ivy situation has gotten completely out of control.
At least I’m better prepared now. Beginner’s luck let me somehow sidestep preventable peril, but then the paywall went up. And with it? All intuitive botanical knowledge (once freely accessible during the initial trial period) just up and evaporated, leaving in its wake a credit card authorization form and the promise of easy unsubscription.
That was three years ago, and I still haven’t managed to speak with a human customer service rep. I’ve called in every other business day and built a rapport with a quirky AI bot named Jimmy. He has a perfect memory and seemingly always has time to talk, even though the waiting list for a human operator is still forty-seven months long.
To put it bluntly, this human mass-extinction has really been ruffling my feathers. All I want to do is yell at a member of the species that made this planet so unbearable to inhabit, but of course that’s now practically impossible.
Well, I’d always like the opportunity to yell… but I’d also appreciate crossing paths with that elusive customer service rep (a subset of human that may very well have gone extinct by now).
2021 has been a down year in terms of my total number of published posts. While it might seem discouraging that we’re well into the tenth month and I’m averaging about two posts per month this year, I can say with confidence that the quality of my compositions has increased from last year’s offerings. Well, I can say anything I want in this echo chamber, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true.
You could say that my 2021 has been more of a Instagram year for me, and my visual output has been pretty prolific lately as a result. You can see for yourself at https://www.instagram.com/wharved_/. Anyway, this is all to say that I’m going to be providing more content on a regular basis to WHARVED, since I want to represent my artistic output as accurately as possible, and I realize that Instagram just doesn’t scratch that itch the same way that WHARVED does.
So here’s a drawing for you! I called it Zipper Skipper, and it is my friend.
The uncanny orthodontist gave me braces, and I never even asked for any! What a swell fella. He even said I could get them tightened for free at one of his six participating franchises if I were ever out on the town and looking to feel alive for a minute. The billing department is starting to get annoyed with me because I refuse to pay for the braces. They told me they set up a payment plan on my behalf, but I never signed anything, shook anyone’s hand, or even offered a verbal agreement. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, we call that “free-99”.