In the world of poetry, every collection has a story to tell, and my forthcoming chap, Psychoskeletal Rhythms, is no exception. Rooted in the intricate relationship between physical and mental health, this chapbook is a profound exploration of how these aspects intertwine with the act of writing.
As a poet, I’ve come to realize that my compulsion to write, fueled by manifestations of hypergraphia, is both a blessing and a challenge. With Psychoskeletal Rhythms,I confront this compulsion head-on and delve into the whirlwind of fear that accompanies the thought of losing the ability to write. It’s an emotionally charged journey, one that traverses the realms of fear, anxiety, and loss—and a journey that I’m still very much on.
The poems in this collection serve as a medium through which I’ve channeled my complex emotions. Each poem carries its own emotional ties, making them unique expressions of my experiences. Poetry has always been my go-to outlet for working through powerful feelings, and this chapbook is no exception. When strong emotions, even those I can’t quite define, surge within me, I frantically draft a poem to provide that much-needed release.
One of my favorite poems from Psychoskeletal Rhythms is ‘Portrait of a Typewriter as an Idol.’ It captures the essence of a writer’s devotion to their craft, the compulsion to write, and the sometimes complicated relationship with the tools of our trade. It’s a poem that mirrors the reverence and hesitation many writers feel when facing the blank page.
Portrait of a Typewriter as an Idol
When you write words to cope,
write to survive,
your gods become pen and ink,
paper and pages,
backs of envelopes
and cocktail napkins
You can’t have enough pens,
in every colour,
because it’s unfathomable
that you could someday
You buy a typewriter,
like all “real writers” do,
like a movie character
that just needs a new ribbon
to sell his stories.
You use the typewriter once, in a manic sort of frenzy.
You pack the typewriter away in a place of honour,
afraid that your stream
of conscious energy might be the end of your typing.
You continue to write on scraps of inspiration,
piling the papers on a pyre to sacrifice
to your newfound god of writing.
Psychoskeletal Rhythms is not just a chapbook; it’s a part of my journey, a piece of my heart that I share with my readers. As they delve into these pages, I hope they find resonance in their own experiences, in the unique rhythm that is the human condition, and in the power of words to capture and heal the soul.