I’m Not a Writing Machine

prose poem by Bethany Jarmul

But sometimes I wish I were ⎯ like the newest artificial intelligence. Input prompt: output poem. Takes seconds.

The quality and quantity of my poetry depends on my mood, if it’s my week to bleed, how much I slept, what my husband said, if my child is sick, if I drank enough water or too much wine, what TV show I watched or book I read curled up in bed, whether I remembered to take my anxiety meds, whether I had a phone call with my mother, saw my therapist, dreamt of Bigfoot or making love or eating pickles, whether I had a chai latte or cheddar and eggs, if I showered, if I remembered to do the laundry, if my toddler flung socks and underwear like a monkey, if I breathed deeply, peered out the window, jogged around the neighborhood, twisted my ankle, if a friend sent a funny text, or my boss asked a question I could not answer.

My writing is messy, raw, gritty ⎯ sometimes impactful, elegant, poignant. Never perfect. Never mechanical. Always alive. Always human.

About Bethany Jarmul

Bethany Jarmul is a writer, editor, and poet. Her work has appeared in more than 50 literary magazines and been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Spiritual Literature. Bethany enjoys chai lattes, nature walks, and memoirs. She lives near Pittsburgh with her family. Connect with her at bethanyjarmul.com or on Twitter: @BethanyJarmul.