The Art of Instagram in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...

And sometimes the inspiration comes from playful mockery…

“The Art of Instagram”

When I first met you, my fingers had little feeling. My hands were cracked and bleeding. Too many grains of sand had fallen into the hourglass of my resignation and mistrust for me to ever possibly believe.

Believe that before me was something otherworldly.

Something worth believing.

A celestial message in a missive that bore the name I was trying so hard to erase with long nights of self-loathing and cheap whiskey.

No sleeping.

And yet there was that envelope so stately. So pristine. Half-opened and so revealing. A letterhead with such elegant font daring me to wonder, begging me to read it.

It drew me in with its promise of understanding – all that I had lost, all that I had been needing, and finally all that I deserve to be. Captivating script with just enough confident want, that I got lost in how clever the words were placed. Not on the lack of meaning. Oh, how I devoured each and every one.

Greedily.

Completely.

As any man staring down hard luck and too many shots would get lost in.

So easily.

There was more than just printed pages, it was a portfolio of possibility for the starving heart. Sustenance in the form of selfies and stationery. A photo gallery of potentiality, and the promise of a particular kind of poet with a different medium and a deeper feeling.

Textured.

Captured.

So exists the lure and so too the leash.

Tossing lines into the oceans, and laying back as that winning smile does all the reeling.

And is that a form of artistry?

A look and a lens?

Taking all the beauty of clear skies, dark clouds, and nature’s seasons and then parlaying it into photographs.

Into memes.

Is that truly you creating or merely duplicating?

I wonder that with a pen, and with paper, and this restless mind bereft of freedom if I too were to take that which I discover and simply repeat it will that make me a charming charlatan or a praised pioneer?

You have your camera.

I have my paper.

You have your snapshot.

I have my imagination.

No matter the view, and no matter the landscape.

You use an application for presentation of a copy.

I have this sin I call original.

You are a poser.

A re-poster.

I, I am a creator.

© Brian Milici
November 23, 2015

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