Month: March 2022

March 21, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i still don’t know
if i’ve learned anything
from this
poem-a-day
experiment

i have no idea if i’m a better writer
a better poet
(if there is such a thing
if one is predominantly participating
in free-verse
and experimental expression)

i feel like i’ve
experimented
with schemes and patterns
i might not have even tried
before this every-day
poem-writing
made me contemplate
what made my poetry
mine
and what made my poetry
interesting
and what made me
excited
to write
and what made me
excited
to read

even still
i have no concept
of what good vs. bad poetry
is
especially in relation to my own
and therefore
i have no idea
if i’ve gotten even a little bit better
(or worse)

but i haven’t run out of things to say
so there’s that.

March 20, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

New York City
is giving us
a true
spring!

(for the first time
in years)

yes, we were here in
Brooklyn
for two springs in a row,
but you’ve got to admit
the spring of
2020
was a little more surrealistic
than springtime
in terms of
~everything~
and please, Brooklyn, forgive us
for only observing
your brick walls
consistently
and so rarely entering
the park five minutes away

and before that,
Wisconsin,
with its approximate
two days of spring
(slightly more if you count
‘muddy’
as the season)
and half the time
snow would hit
full force
months after
we thought
spring was finally upon us
(and the next day
the blistering heat
of a midwest summer)

but here
in our own yard
we’ve seen the green
pop up from the ground
and even the days were a little snow
sprinkled the earth
the buds didn’t give up
they kept up
popped out
now, not just green,
we have purple, yellow, white,
black bumble bees buzzing
(a veritable enby flag of a backyard)

and we’ve eaten breakfasts,
had coffee,
made calls,
read,
worked,
watched,
on a deck that overlooks it all

and we breathe it in
slowing down
soaking it up
like the sun

A Bronx Spring.

March 19, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

writing about bagels
and reading about bagels,
reading about reviewing bagels
and writing about bagels once more

all thew while making/eating/pondering
bagels

it’s been a very bagel-y couple of days

[but when is it not
in New York City?]

March 17, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma

and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.

maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;

the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind

but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”

March 16, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

quiet the mind,
shush the brain,
but don’t force the silence
because then that’s all that remains.

i wonder if that’s why others’ poetry
takes longer to write;
because rhythm/rhyme/meter
don’t all happen in one night,

or just one setting,
like sitting in this morning page sun
listening to Japanese hip-hop lofi
and just kinda ~wish~ my scheme into one

sentence
then another
and another
and losing track
and losing steam
and losing the scheme
i [vaguely] thoughtfully put in here
and hearing the rhymes in my head
but only scattered/stilted/disjointed/
disappointed
i continue on
disrupting any complex pattern that might have arisen
so i can continue on this mess of a poem
and pretend that’s just
How I Write

(instead of
how
i think)

March 15, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

writing
a thing
but not the way i want to be
writing it
not in the way i’ve imagined
saying it
not in the context and meter and rhythm i’ve
dreamt it

and i’m hesitating words in a way i
never do

is this all some sort of quandary
of feeling ‘off’
simply because my coffee is hot
[[not
iced]]?

March 14, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i don’t have
many memories
from childhood

an iconic moment here

a rush of emotion there

the things that i did all summer
bundled into one specific instance

mostly
{like my thoughts}
i have
vibes

generally
my memories
consist of the
aura
of childhood
of carefree freedom
imagination
the feeling of being
too big for that tiny body
to old for this world
(or maybe too big for this small world
and too old for that young body)

and as my memories age out
from childhood
to tween,
pre-teen,
teenage-hood,
young-adulthood
the memories get darker
angstier
and even the vibes
are less clear

the older i got
the swirlier the emotions became

until something happened
and i feel like i burst forth
from a cauldron of muck
and murky emotions
and became fully me

[when did that happen?
when i hit my stride in my early/mid 20’s?
when i chopped off all my hair
and started caring less
about what i was ‘supposed to’ be?
when i finally birthed myself out of the
strong-arm of academia?
when i met kip?
when i figured out i was non-binary?
when i started feeling more like i did
at 9?
(even though, emotionally, i do still have times/days/stints
of 19-year-old me?)]

memories are fickle
and i feel as though mine might be
fickler than most

but hey,
the vibes of my childhood,
overall,
they were simply
exquisite.

March 13, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

internally
raw
worn
torn
injured
maybe bleeding

(maybe healing?)

~~~

i look at the the date
“happy manniversary!” i tell my kip
“i didn’t do anything…” they say, as their face falls
from their initial surprise-joy
“it’s ok” i say, hoping to turn the mood
from sadness
to a dark humor
that will also then
bring us down
again
to all that’s been:
“two years ago today
we were
~supposed~ to be seeing
Hadestown.”
we laugh
and sigh
and continue on inside
as the pandemic still goes on
(as much as folks pretend it isn’t
with lax guidelines
and ignoring science
and pleas from healthcare workers
falling
not on deaf ears
but on those that simply
wish not to hear)
outside.

~~~

my poetry this morning
seems to be coming from a different place
a place of allowing
the cacophony
and angst
to broil itself down
to the basics
of words
and feelings
and leaving
them all
on the page[screen]
[[[for once]]]

March 12, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

a whole host of
feelings
dreary
hungry
tired
that seem to
disconnect
me from feeling
any other things
[inspired
full-spirited
interest]

~~~

this winter seems to go on forever
except
unlike the Wisconsin winters
i’d been used to,
this one has a very
Cleveland flare:
stopping for a day or two,
letting the flowers in the yard
start to peak from the ground,
green stems pointing towards the sky,
before dumping another
few inches
or damn near
a whole foot
of freezing rain/hail/sleet/
pure snow
on us once more
(only to have all that
melt
in a matter of days,
and have the buds
begin
to emulate
full flowers;
colors in the back
side
front yards
before it all turns to white again
just for the green to stick out
over top)

the fight
over what season
March
should be.

~~~

what to write about
in mornings when i feel
the least like myself;
not even more sad
than my usual rainbow demeanor,
just too tired
to be
me
?