The Forgotten Dialect of the (Tattooed) Heart
I’m finally feeling settled enough to write.
Poetry, links, & contact info for poet Andrew P. Dillon
I’m finally feeling settled enough to write.
I’m trying to be intentional about my remaining time in the United States. Even though I’ve lived in Nashville most of my life, there are a lot of things I’ve never done.
The Republican Party has overthrown the United States government.
I’m back from my trip to Albuquerque, and one of the coolest things about the city is all their public transportation is free. I was able to transverse the city to see places I could never have seen—and spend money at businesses I wouldn’t have otherwise visited—if my only options were walking or rideshare.
We’re still in the habit of asking people “How was your week/weekend?” or “What have you been up to?” But since every day is the same and time has no meaning anymore, I have no answers.
I cannot conceive of more concrete evidence of America as a failed state than our regular need for heroic teenage bullet sponges.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of waiting for the mutant limbs I was guaranteed after getting my COVID vaccines.
At this point in the COVID timeline, my reckoning of time seems irreparably damaged. This week, my girlfriend Sarah & I were browsing for a movie and settled on The Bourne Identity. A few minutes in, I said “Didn’t we watch this a few months ago?” She looked confused. “Maybe you did?” No, reader, I hadn’t watched it myself over the summer. We watched it together, but at her old apartment. Where…
Not long after I started working professionally as a Technical Writer, I decided to design a content strategy that would eliminate Microsoft Word from my personal writing. What I’ve got now works fairly well. It’s much more streamlined than my previous setup using Word, but there are several areas where I’d like to improve.
Poetry Twitter blew up this month, and I’ve got cold takes.