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it’s a shame the original caption for this is gone bc it was a really nice story. An author decided he wanted his 2000-ish word essay tattooed onto people, but only one word per person, if someone was to die, the story would be gone.

It’s kind of amazing to think, imagine being that author and having a story that could never be read, yet it could be anywhere in the world. idk man I just think it’s pretty incredible.

"Shelley Jackson’s Skin project, a 2095-word story published exclusively in tattoos, one word each on as many willing volunteers, so it can never be read in its proper order, but just exists, pulsing, out in the world at all times."

do you realize what this is saying?
you are part of a big story.
if you were gone, the whole story would have something missing.
this is great.

what an inspiration.  we all come together to complete the big story.

Sometimes I feel I’m supposed to make pronouncements about poetry, and poets, and what poets and poetry are doing, or have done, or will do, or should do, that I’m suppose to want to. But I don’t. Not really. I have ideas, yes. I ponder, I pontificate. But I’m never quite sure. I change my mind. I can’t decide. And I don’t really want to. I’m more comfortable with poetry being a landscape of shifting sand than a cement lot. I love the possibility and the multiplicity in that.
Camille Rankine, from “On My Metatextual Uncertainty,” from Harriet: A Poetry Blog. (via literarymiscellany)
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