Wednesday Poetry

I may, or may not have, but definitely did not go to poetry class today. My hips hurt and I didn't want to walk anywhere...
(And I'm the most stubborn person I know... (not really, you know who you are...))
But I'm thinking of including some of my writing in my art.
It's like this....
Although I'm a human mess, and my room is a mess, and my life is a mess, and my hair is a mess... my art is actually quite precise.
I'm fascinated (you heard right) fascinated with the idea of the grid in terms of the human condition...
And that sounds like an artist statement of some self righteous art major...
Basically, it's like this. My point of departure in my art stems from the fact that humanity measures itself incessantly.
I mean it, incessantly.
Go ahead, define humanity, define yourself. It's basically a numbers/measurement game.
Look at me.
I am (in list form)
Sister to 3 people
Daughter to 3 people
Granddaughter to 6 people
Girlfriend to 1 person
Ex-girlfriend to (some) people
In college 2 years
19 years old
5'5 tall
a 5'8 wingspan
an (undisclosed) weight
Friend to several
Cousin to (so many people)

And that's just numbers... I can define myself without numbers, but they are still bare bones measurements of humanity.
And as a populous... what are we? We're billions and cities and countries and continents and constituents and pounds of pollution...

My point is (yes I'm finally getting to my point) that we measure ourselves, and the grid is an elementary form of measurement, a perfectly geometric representation of something. I've been taking measurements of parts of my body and stitching them, with thread (because I want to) into a near perfect grid.
The level of accomplishment in my art is debatable at this point... I know that, but I'm fascinated and excited, and that's enough to keep me going...

Deep collecting breath...

Now, what does that have to do with Wednesday poetry?
Well...
A suggestion from my professor was to combine the idea of the grid and the self... she asked what I'm doing right now... and I said, writing poetry. So she suggested I work that into my art.
Here's a thought for one of the poems I might include...
It's called "The Red Table"

When I'm in love,

(and I will be in love)

I'm going to leave little notes.

In small places,

like the glovebox,

or the produce drawer of the fridge,

the hot water tap,

the inside cover of your favorite book,

I'm going to leave little notes.

They will be dated

(so you will know that I loved you back then),

and they will be signed,

these little notes of yours.

If I left you one today,

I would leave it beneath the dining room table.

It would not be a sticky note,

or stationary.

It would be marker on the underside of the red table,

the one you love,

and it would simply say,

“The biggest way I could say this,

was on the underside of this.

I miss you

and I'm sorry about the table.”

Wow. This is the longest blog post ever... Thoughts? I haven't had a comment in while... :)