Paper Fledglings

By Nicholas Dertinger

Paper Fledglings is a collection of art and poetry designed to take the reader on a journey through pain and loss and into hope and wonder. Like a fledgling getting ready to take flight for the first time, we grow and adapt to the world around us. Like paper, we bend and fold, sometimes even tear. Although we may find ourselves mended, we are no

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stoke the Wild Press
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087903453

Nicholas Dertinger

Nicholas Dertinger is a poet, writer, illustrator, and co-founder of Stoke the Wild. After years of doodling in notebooks, writing songs and stories, Nicholas finally started sharing his words and sketches with the world. Follow Nicholas @nickdertingerart for more. Stoke the Wild is home to the creative work of Nicholas and, his wife, Joy. From paintings, writings, and their weekly podcast, Stoke the Wild seeks to inspire creativity in others. Join the conversation at stokethewild.com or follow @stokethewild for more.

Book preview

ELSEWHERE

What is a dream?

I spent my childhood dreaming

About life after all this mess.

Home was not pretty

Picket fences and apple pies.

It was ash trays, Long Island Iced Teas,

And arguments.

That’s not to say it was all bad,

But it wasn’t all good.

So, I dreamed about what came next

What would life look like?

What magic would it inspire?

I dreamt of far off places

With bright lights and movie screens,

Starring in roles that fulfilled my dreams,

And suddenly I was very happy.

But it was only dreams.

Dreams dashed by the unbelieving,

Those who dared to push back

Against what I hoped for

To write

To be right

To see

To be seen

To tell stories

Or be caught in someone else’s

So, I did what any sensible person

Would do,

I gave up

Never showed up

Like it was a toss up

Between happiness

And reality

Who do I wanna be?

I only ever dreamed of being me,

With a little bit of majesty

On the side.

WAITING THERE FOR ME

My childhood bedroom had wooden boards,

Gnarly and warped from their age.

My bed sat in the corner;

I’ve always liked the fortress

Of pillows and blankets

I could build for my anxious sleep.

A small drawing desk sat across—

Little did I know I’d forge early memories

Of art, style, and design at that table.

The desk also held my little tape deck

Set adjacent to my books and paper;

My first mixtapes

And musical experiences,

Finding my own likes and dislikes

All established here.

There wasn’t much else,

Some toys and a chair

A book shelf, a dresser,

But this place was my home for 13