Month: February 2022

February 28, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

drive is not enough,
desire is not enough,
ambition/hunger/passion-
-not enough,
when you have anxiety
breaking you down at every step,
when you have depression making sure
you know
that visualization
is just a foolish trick,
and that hunger is simply greed
in a different trench coat,
when you have your own brain
waging war
on every want you’ve ever wanted
it’s not enough
to want
to set the goals
to be proactive at all…

manifestation
only manifests
if your whole being is on the same wavelength

so how
do i
connect
my
divisions of self?

February 27, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

almost done
with the worst month

(though, to be fair, i have learned to admire parts of
february:
i get to learn so much about Black/African American culture and history,
i get to find folks who i admire
and they readily send out their paypals
and venmos
and cashapps
so i can compensate them for their education,
give my tiny portion of reparations,
i find lists of lists of artists/stores/crafters/everything
to use not only this month
but for birthdays
and holidays
and no-reason-needed gift-buying,
the amount of color coming across my screen
in february
is truly gorgeous
and i make sure to like for the algorithm
and follow for my own list
so it can stay that way
year ‘round.)

(the only other part of february
i truly enjoy
is that it is so close to the new year
that everything still feels pretty possible;
the resolutions not dropped
seem so much closer to becoming
reality
but there’s still time,
being only month two,
to re-start any failed habits
(or pick up ones that weren’t obvious
on 1/1)
)

otherwise,
worst month.
cold.
bleak.
not nearly as exciting as january
about it being a new year.
the days and dates the same as march
so my maybe-adhd/maybe-dyslexic/maybe-something-else brain
continues to suffer
the past experiences
of switched months,
the embarrassment
and shame
and confusion as i carefully read the month
but still end up wrong.
and you may think that the shortness of it,
the 28 days as opposed to 30+
would be a relief,
but that is
far
from the case:
i had so much i wanted to accomplish
this month
and now i’m running out of february days
in which to accomplish it;
normally the 27th would indicate a close to the end
but you still have time
dates
days
to next month,
but no,
tomorrow is the last day
to accomplish
anything
great
in february

so fuck february
thank goodness it’s almost over
but also
why did it go by so fast?

February 26, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

yesterday it rained
not from clouds or sky
but from frozen branches
and telephone wires

and i walked
under the melting drops
and cared for a twisted ankle
and recorded auditions
and read for classes

and i felt so
accomplished.

and today i read for myself
and relaxed the day away with my spouse
and noticed the ankle not doing too well
and rehearsed for a different class
and waited to poem my poetry
and both sky and ground
were clear
and dry

and i still
can feel
accomplished.

February 25, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

amidst the attacks
on trans kids’ care
and Ukraine
and the continued unfounded laxations
on policies meant to keep us safe and healthy
and, of course, the never-ending attacks of
those of color in this country
(particularly those Black in this country)

amidst all this tragedy and infuriation and chaos yesterday
i achieved a personal best,
an achievement,
a goal i’d thought unattainable,

and i need to remind myself that i’m allowed to celebrate that.

i can celebrate and mourn,
i can celebrate and call to action,
i can celebrate and take action,
i am not required to fix the world
before i work on my silly little circus moves

in fact

working on my silly little circus moves
is what gives me the strength to do all i need to for the world…

without circus,
without celebration,
without exercise and investigation
of what my body can do,
without art and all i do to self-express,
without that humanity
i am simply left
a giant mass of depression,

and depression/forlornness/existential dread;
that is [part of] what maintains the status quo.

without art/celebration/joy
i am left overwhelmed with all that needs to be done
in the world.

with,
i can balance
all i know is terrible
with my little pieces of what is good,
so i can have the energy to call representatives
and give my little bits of extra income
and write poetry to [maybe] inspire others
as well

we,
those of us who are queer,
those of us with mental states that fill us
with anxiety
and/or
despair,
we are human
and are allowed our humanity,
our joy,
our celebration,
our art,

and, as a lovely side-effect,
that humanity,
when taken,
can help us do our part
to negate some of the external sources
of our stress and panic and dread.

i am allowed to celebrate
just to celebrate
because i am human
(no matter how many conservative lawmakers try to deny that about me and my kin)
i am human
and i am allowed joy in my life

and perhaps my joy can uplift others in their joy as well

so here’s to baby’s first solid, unassisted, one-armed meathook,
to the side-abs i am creating
and the joy i am stoking
in myself
because i am allowed,
i need no external validation
but it helps to hear it out loud all the same,
i am allowed
i am allowed
and i can bring others up as well.

February 24, 2022

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i wish i could have the discipline
of folks who literally write every day,
who get up at the exact same time
and write for the exact same amount of hours
and never miss a day
in their 30, 40, 60, 90-year career

i wish i could write/live like i’m running out of time

i think the problem is i do.

but i feel it in the depths of my skin/soul/teeth
where the reminder just brings me to my knees
i see the futility
of years
of words
of works
and it petrifies
and paralyzes
every piece of my creativity

so where’s my legacy?

February 23, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

am i
((will i ever))
getting used to new york?
my new york?
the new york of constant facemasks,
and slightly less people around times square
(not that i’d ever want to go there),
and no real outings
yet;
but still the persistence,
the perseverance,
the resistance to unkind niceness
and unfounded stupidity
(not saying that isn’t around
it’s just,
as a whole,
here we are.)

and the problem with getting used to
a new york
mid-pandemic
is that, as disgusting as this city is,
i really don’t feel comfortable
or safe
anywhere else.

February 22, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

continuing
on
a trajectory;
a reconstruction?
a fun date deduction:
[2/22/22]?
a pondering of poetry and pain?

the contemplations i create
co-habitate in my brain
until the day
they’re ready
to be
set free…

…and even then, they never truly leave home;
they come back and visit
for dinners,
for vacations,
for mid-week excursions,
for time away from their new habitudes
and i conclude
that i’m never truly concluded
with any sort of
meditation
which is good?
i guess?

February 20, 2022

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pondering
but not writing
thinking
but not prose-ing
mulling
but not having anything to show for it

(but isn’t that the point of meditating on a subject?
you get a better idea of your own relationship to it
without having the capitalist urge to prove it?)
(maybe?)

(i do a lot that stems from capitalism,
though i abhor the entire philosophy,
or at least the way it’s influenced us societally;
i feel the need to constantly be productive
and have something useful grow from that productivity…
but sometimes humans just need to human,
sit around,
enjoy company,
enjoy having a body–
but i’ve been taught that my body is lesser,
and therefore i should change it to redeem its worth,
and the idea of simply enjoying my body
as is,
natural,
and naturally,
is revolutionary…
and boy do i love breaking rules
and being contrary,
so why do i still feed into this capitalist myth
by feeling it necessary to not feed this body?
…different parts of me feel so at odds
all the time)

i could be resistant to capitalism
in so many better
more revolutionary ways:
revolutionary love
revolutionary joy
revolutionary rest,
but i choose to stress
and strike
against my body’s needs
and worry about all who can’t be
anti-capitalist revolutionaries
and worry about those who buy into capitalism
and patriarchy
and white supremacy
and worry about pretty much everyone
and everything
(because, i’ll bet, if i’m worrying
i can’t be bringing revolution)

but also,
revolutionarily,
an entire change in structure/mindset/philosophy
is not solely mine to bring,
this is just another capitalist myth
clouding my mind
once more;
humans are social creatures
and we can depend on one another.
no one pulls themselves entirely up by their bootstraps,
there will always be someone willing to give them a chance,
or an account full of parents’ cash for the ‘just in case’ fall,
so why
why
why
do i buy
into this story
that i need to be
solo
for
ever
to have
any
worth?

capitalism;
coming to a brain-washing station
near you.