sophiechoir

[sophiechoir]

the sunrise scrapes

my tongue

of foul graves

[sophiechoir]

Today I finished the full archive of this blog; it is 396 pages long.

After the first round of cuts, the content for the edited book totals 38 pages.

One of my goals for the New Year is to compile the best of Sophie Choir - a near decade of my creative writing - into a physical book.

Two reasons for doing so:

1) Tumblr will not be around forever and I do not want to lose said decade of writing to the increasingly rapid deterioration of the digital landscape. I have tried and not been crazy about the functionality of Tumblr’s blog export feature. I want a separate personal Word doc of the entire contents of my blog as pure archive.

2) Beyond a pure archive, I want to actively reflect on and edit my writing into a curated collection I am proud of, that I can keep on my shelf and give to my loved ones as an important part of myself. This would be the physical book. I know my presence on Tumblr has waned significantly [ though I reblog art & writing frequently on my side blog @sophiechorus ]; perhaps this will tie a bow on my Tumblr poetry era - at the very least, it will be part of a year of reflection and self-analysis as I figure out how I’m going to move forward creatively. I may transition to keeping most of my future writing private for a chance of “real” publication one day.

Since I have technically already “published” all of this writing by posting it here on Tumblr.com, this retrospective book will be self-published. I plan to compile, edit, and design it myself and print it through Lulu.com, having some experience with the process already from my career as a professional graphic designer. I’m really looking forward to making it beautiful.

I have begun the laborious task of copy & pasting my posts into a Word doc. I probably should not have started at the very beginning of my blog, since the oldest posts are extremely painful to read. The nausea has already put me off this project for a week, haha. But I am determined and will not be stopped even by the ghastliest specters of my past! :)

Just thought I’d share a bit of what’s going on behind the scenes. I don’t expect much or any interest, but if anyone would like a copy of the final book, feel free to let me know. Probably won’t ask anything for it (it would be my honor to find a spot on someone’s bookshelf) but it all depends on how the production costs shake out. I will post an update once the book is ready.

Hope everyone is well and filled with the hope and invigorating spirit of the New Year 🕊️

[sophiechoir]

One of my goals for the New Year is to compile the best of Sophie Choir - a near decade of my creative writing - into a physical book.

Two reasons for doing so:

1) Tumblr will not be around forever and I do not want to lose said decade of writing to the increasingly rapid deterioration of the digital landscape. I have tried and not been crazy about the functionality of Tumblr’s blog export feature. I want a separate personal Word doc of the entire contents of my blog as pure archive.

2) Beyond a pure archive, I want to actively reflect on and edit my writing into a curated collection I am proud of, that I can keep on my shelf and give to my loved ones as an important part of myself. This would be the physical book. I know my presence on Tumblr has waned significantly [ though I reblog art & writing frequently on my side blog @sophiechorus ]; perhaps this will tie a bow on my Tumblr poetry era - at the very least, it will be part of a year of reflection and self-analysis as I figure out how I’m going to move forward creatively. I may transition to keeping most of my future writing private for a chance of “real” publication one day.

Since I have technically already “published” all of this writing by posting it here on Tumblr.com, this retrospective book will be self-published. I plan to compile, edit, and design it myself and print it through Lulu.com, having some experience with the process already from my career as a professional graphic designer. I’m really looking forward to making it beautiful.

I have begun the laborious task of copy & pasting my posts into a Word doc. I probably should not have started at the very beginning of my blog, since the oldest posts are extremely painful to read. The nausea has already put me off this project for a week, haha. But I am determined and will not be stopped even by the ghastliest specters of my past! :)

Just thought I’d share a bit of what’s going on behind the scenes. I don’t expect much or any interest, but if anyone would like a copy of the final book, feel free to let me know. Probably won’t ask anything for it (it would be my honor to find a spot on someone’s bookshelf) but it all depends on how the production costs shake out. I will post an update once the book is ready.

Hope everyone is well and filled with the hope and invigorating spirit of the New Year 🕊️

[sophiechoir]

Traveling with a Winter Coat

(A long one, mind you,

past the knees, all the way

from Tampa to Chicago

and back,

belted yet unabashed (frankly

unable to be bashed

thanks to its impressive

Michelin-puffs),

so beautiful, brown, bumping

into both neighbors

on both flights (blush!)

and catching on the Uber’s

backseat belt, catching

the wicked wind by the wrist

before it bites

(except for the nips about the ankles)

(forgivable) (merciful) the confused

kind fingers of my brother

buttoning the hood about my neck,

leaving my feet free to take

8.75 miles of pitiless city

in (slightly limited) stride,

and my hands nimble enough

to cradle the cold evening

close to my heart)

In short - a most worthy

inconvenience.

[sophiechoir]

the city: smokey, sullen,

leering over black waters, yet

despite this (its best) still beset

by such charming twinkles

[sophiechoir]

a feather left

at tether’s end

[sophiechoir]

the moon misjudged its autumnal turn -

and dropped into my open eye -

where - a perfect egg - it grew

engorged upon its milk-

blue light - eclipsing my own sight.

[sophiechoir]

after the birth of each poem i always have to take at least ten minutes to mold its still-pliable features - tweak the nose, pluck some spare feathers, connect a stray sinew, brush off the clay dust, button the shirt collar, etc. nothing springs perfect from my skull.

[sophiechoir]

an extraordinary chariot

silverly bound up the pebbled trail

throwing rocks with such grace

that not even dust touches

its cosmic wheels, unwarped

above it the sun winks

and stretches its hot arms down

making its metal melt-hot

making it shine so butter-bright

that the world wraps itself (so sweetly)

into the comet curve

[sophiechoir]

into the waste

dragging a broken chariot

by a broken hand

he may yet be made a saint

if he keeps to the broken

shell

path

[sophiechoir]

im afraid ill never write anything beautiful again

[sophiechoir]

2 mins til 1 i read a poem

don’t understand it

forget everything

put my shoes back on

and shake the crumbs out

for the stray still rubbing

against my hermitage

[sophiechoir]

to read

[sophiechoir]

im afraid ill never write anything beautiful again

[sophiechoir]

writing very little, daydreaming very little, only grotesque things, against my will; otherwise submerged in the mundane like an invisible mire; one does not notice the sand has grown thick in one’s throat til it closes completely, in one’s eyes til it blinds completely; and yet i was the one who led my horse here in search of goodness, set it to work at the mill, bound it to the circle, trudging out self-prescribed deeds and domesticities; perhaps this is still growth, but the aching kind; the kind that roots down instead of up.

[sophiechoir]

months of scraps

-

i think comparing ideas gives us glimpses of the Truth - in that when the ideas we have fall short,

-

diaphanous mountains of silt and sand

-

soft shadowy shapes

strewn about the ceiling

waiting for me to waken

and make them material

-

the horse fell with his rider to the bottom of the cliff

-

tea-stained teeth

[sophiechoir]

Relief is in becoming. Unease is in regressing.

We could also just as easily say the reverse about these two statements.

“The beast becoming beauty relieves. Beauty becoming the beast unnerves.”

— Glen Duncan, By Blood We Live (via mashamorevna)