i like watching kip draw,
the decisions made
so quickly,
the lines deft and
decisions clear.
i often wish i could draw,
but when i practice
i get so frustrated;
every image i see in my head
i don’t have the muscle control to get
onto the page
or screen
or whatever.
while i draw, i feel like that portrait
of Jesus
that was “cleaned”
[botched]
and i’m just trying to do my best
to put some eyes
a nose
and maybe a mouth
back on myself
but i know with my skills
they’ll be
so sad
so i just do it lightly
and hope no one else notices
my black hole of a face
with child-like imprinting
there where real features used to be.
Month: May 2021
May 10, 2021
a different kind of sleepy this morning
a cocoon of warmth
of ‘i actually slept last night
nearly through the night
when’s the last time i had a good
night’s
sleep?’
but the sleepiness that comes from that
actual
restful
sleep
is quite different than the usual
just
tired.
(sorry i got bored of this poem like immediately,
i guess that’s part of writing every day,
right?)
May 9, 2021
to wake up
the next day
and the next day
and the next day
forever feels like
[exhaustion]
but some people see it as
opportunity
and i’d love to be one of those people
[maybe one day?]
~~~
cold air
makes me feel
so forlorn
even in the springtime
when it should be a reminder of
where we just were
(though it’s barely the temperature we’re coming from)
it feels like
everything is dying again
and i’ll be placed in my
hibernation
for my own good
because otherwise
that hibernation
would beg to be
permanent.
~~~
to create
or not to create
[for the zine]
that
really isn’t a question at all.
when one has an endeavor
that one is excited about
that one wants to be
at least close to great
one will do it
and do it
proudly.
May 8, 2021
An Ode To The Nicknames We Give Our Animals.
A toast to Louka
The Goodest of Dogs
(The Stinkiest of Dogs)
The Silliest and Smartest
And Goofiest
Our Little Louka
Our LoukaLou
Our Loukaloukaloukalou-kah
Kalouah
Good Dog
Booboosousa
HassleDog
Louka
A toast to this Cat
Mowgli
The Mowgs of us all,
The Actual, OG, HassleAnimal
HassleCat
TrashCat
The Fluffiest
The Shed-iest
The Tubby Tum Tum
Mo-go-go-gali
mmmmmOOOWGLI
Stinkiest
Too Smart For Her Own Good
Mowgli
May 7, 2021
i wake up with wild fantasies
about the important poems i’ll write
contemplating complex rhythms
internal rhymes
looking forward to the times
when i can sit with pen and paper
[screen and keys]
and just
put it all out there.
and yet
when i am ready for the writing part
of my morning
i am hit with not only the absence of any important poetry
i cannot think of any subject matter
good enough to put into words.
and if i try to force it
(the important subjects, that is)
they churn in my mind
making zero connections
barely able to put into words
(much less gorgeous wordings)
my mind meditates
and spits out
‘racism
america
bad’
my thoughts
as a white person
of much privilege
[but not all]
could be important
for others of my similar privileges
but would it be worth it
when there are so many who still don’t have a voice?
and so my brain resets
and says
‘write another poem about candy
about the cat napping on your lap as you write this
about the silly things your autocorrect says
about the concept of writing poetry
anything silly and light.’
and my mind mulls again
‘i have a unique perspective
being in the middle
the crossroads of gender
(or maybe completely outside it)
always the observer
of societal mores
(which i always thought was morays)’
but once again my brain interrupts
and says
‘you can’t.
you’re too tired
sleepy
hungry
confused
distracted by this cat
can’t get into it
can’t get out of it
just write fluff
write fluff until your brain seeps
out
and you can maybe fill it
with important things
(that you may or may not actually remember)
once again.’
May 6, 2021
it’s ok
it’s ok
it’s ok to not write a poem just yet
about reframing the story
around death
to create closure.
this is ok
to sit with
in your heart
for a while
just you and your
thoughts/memories/emotions/
stories
living each day,
getting to know how to live
with closure
(even if it feels fake at first)
i know you don’t feel like you deserve
closure
acceptance
to go on
but remember
you were just a kid,
a damn kid,
it doesn’t matter if you think
every child is ‘truly innocent’
or not
they are children
their brains are not fully developed
they don’t know how to fully deal
with death
you
were just a child
your
brain was not fully developed
you
didn’t know how to fully deal
with death
with all that death
that loss
it doesn’t matter if you think you deserve closure
now
don’t you think you,
child you,
eleven and fifteen year old you
deserve some sort of
closure?
acceptance?
healthy relationship with self?
something?
May 5, 2021
wake up
it’s too early
check the email
see if there’s anything interesting
(even though it’s doubtful there will be)
check the facebook
(even though you know it’ll just suck you in
and stress you out)
try to do some crosswords
until they can lull you back to sleep
feel so tired
roll over
cuddle your spouse
feel even more awake than before
roll back over
wake up
it’s still too early…
May 4, 2021
spent
most of the morning
searching for film/tv monologues
got nowhere closer to finding a *new* one
but maybe, just maybe, i’ve solidified the *old[er]* one?
are poetry parameters
really there if you force
your writing to become a
certain way just to fit it all
into a certain look or feel or
(isn’t that what rhyme scheme
/verses were way back in the old
days?)
anywho
i’ve searched
and read
and contemplated
and i should have been
writing and writing and writing
but at least now i get to
read and read and read
(though i do have a lot to do today…)
it’s morning!
awake!
stick those contacts in your eyes!
drink that full mug of coffee from the fridge!
awake!
awake!
write, read, edit, search, listen to you tummy rumbling
(i mean, listen to the curated playlist that app has going for you…)
break your fast!
drink more coffee!
do your morning things!
awake!
awake!
awake!
May 3, 2021
and, of course, if i do this,
if i continue and succeed,
will i always post?
will i have poems in [this] document
that are just for me
and if so
will i ever go back to the strained
stream of consciousness
that morning pages are
‘supposed to be’ in?
my problem comes from the fact that
[as i’m pretty sure i’ve poetry-ed about before]
i think so quickly
that my fingers can only barely keep up with one idea
add to that the whole concept of translating thoughts into words
and there is a lot more time spent figuring out how to say/write things
than actually saying or writing them.
[and, seeing as how my head can *sometimes* think multiple things at once,
i also have often continued on
twelve steps past what i’m trying to take down
so i’m translating
writing
remembering
and thinking
all at once
and it just feels like i can never catch up.]
but perhaps that’s what stream of consciousness should really be about?
taking down the thoughts as they come?
so i [should] write down the thought
and then ignore the twelve thoughts between
and write down the next one?
[but sometimes it’s the steps in-between
that offer the insight into my process
my paths
my connections
and that is the place that i really should concentrate on
for me?]
i don’t know
it all seems too neurotypical
to be helpful
so that’s why poetry is so nice.
it slows down my brain
i process not only sentence by sentence
but sometimes word by word
becoming incredibly intentional
and seeing the thoughts laid out
for all to see and process and understand
so that maybe, just maybe
i could skip from that first thought to the twelfth
but in a way that everyone
[or at least i]
could see the process
sans steps
sans words
sans over-explanation
just thought and thought
bare
nothing more
[nothing less]
offering all that written word will allow
[and sometimes
just
sometimes
offering a little bit more]
May 2, 2021
will i ever do
anything
with these poems
?
~~~
how does my brain go from
zero to brilliant concept
in the early morning light
but struggles to even discuss
the rest of my morning
(in poetical form)
just twenty minutes later?
~~~
and if i’m struggling
with concepts
in mornings
does that imply that
i should start writing
in the evenings
[instead/as well]?
or am i
simply
struggling
because all i actually want to be doing
is reading my own book?
(and then is that
because
it’s actually good
or because
i simply wrote
what i want
out of a book
?
)
~~~
oh
to be as adept
at knowing
[and incorporating]
language/words
as well as
e. e. cuummings
~~~
five poems
and barely over
one hundred and twenty five words
~~~
what
will my day hold
next?
kipventures 