Now you know.

Stroll over to Impossible Archetype and download issue five to read the rest of my poem, "Deadheading". Please and thank you.

I think the boys are getting used to the new place.

Dear Agents of Tumblr,

My blog was marked as explicit for three posts. Two of the posts I deleted because I understand that even though the post wasn't adult or pornographic, it came from a blog that was marked as such. The third post, however, I won't delete, nor is this post pornographic or adult. The post, and supplementary article, used actual advertisements to show female objectification as part of our societal visual rhetoric. There is no nudity or nipples present. I understand that having a tag of "objectification" might have presented a red flag as a general bot sweep. Yet that the post also had "feminism" might have nullified the previous tag since the idea of objectification and equality can be argued as opposites.

It's of some concern that my blog was flagged, a blog that I think cultivates positivity and beauty, and I have to argue otherwise. Perhaps it might be in your best interest to flag the blogs and posts and review yourselves before putting your users at odds with your platform.

Kindly pull your heads out of your collective asses.

On this day I complete my thirty-second year by Sean Griffin for Lord Byron

My nights awake. My under eyes of deepened hue. Now I’ve turned thirty-two. I have drunk the sky and hours have turned my mouth blue. Now I’ve turned thirty-two.

Cheers are three for and from me, I lift my glass to empty room and give my due for what’s another in over a score of others as blasé as thirty-two.

Can you remember? Do you remember any in this yearly slew? It seems a forced recall creates few, none more or less than thirty-two.

At what age will I reminisce, take stock, and say that that will do? Perhaps another year or sometime after I’ve turned thirty-two.

Let’s fill ourselves to reduce the echo of our truths. A boon or burden, I wish I knew, now that I’ve turned thirty-two.