November 10, 2023

sometimes i write poetry for the page
tapering each line down just a
little bit lower so that
aesthetically it
pleases

and other times i compose rows and rows of possibilities in my head
waiting for the right syllable to fit in
and taste so good as it fills my mouth
with alliterative qualities
i can’t imagine life without
and rhymes and mines of tongue twisters
laying in wait, waiting to trip up an unsuspecting mouth
but it all settles into something that i can chew and spit spit spit
out
with a rhythm all of my own making
all of my own devising
all of my own words
humbly arriving
as they should

but

most of the time
i create for
both

November 9, 2023

i wish
i wish
i wish
i didn’t make myself cringe
with every thought or written word or
every kind of close to rhyme

i just want to create art
that doesn’t care about being art

[that is the purest kind]

November 8, 2023

what you need to understand
[‘you’ in this case meaning
a new reader to this poetry blog]
is that i do not write poetry
carefully
i do not rewrite and rerewrite and rererewrite —
i throw some ideas on my keyboard
and sometimes they become words
and sometimes those words fit together
just enough
to become a poem.
i don’t write with purpose
except to get more and more art out into the world
[and get these loud loud stanzas out of my head]
i don’t write for perfectionism’s sake
since perfectionism runs/ruins the rest of my life.
what you need to understand
is that this will never be
e.e. [cummings]
or dickinson [comma] emily
or bukowski
or angel nafis
or rupi
[though my shorter poems definitely emulate her]
these poems are rarely edited
barely re-read
not much adjusted to page from my head —
there’s no rhyme scheme
except
what sometimes fits together happenstance-ily,
and helping the chaos
reign itself in
is what i’m doing with these words
again and again and again —
so please,
heed my warning,
don’t expect much literarily from these words/phrases/stanzas/poems —
but expect me to show up
as i am this [and every] morning
and get something out
from me
to myself
[and then to you, if you want to read it]
[no pressure tho]

November 6, 2023

i’m feeling so at odds with my own writing this morning
like it’s a morning for reading, not creating
but i made a promise to myself —
my morning pages are for myself
to just get out what needs to get out
[and it’s ok if the posted poem for today
was not actually written today
but
i do have to write *something* today]
so what is actually in my head this morning?

November 5, 2023

somehow
i’m excited
for this slow slow sunday
somehow
i’m excited
to catch up on all the chores stacked up
somehow
i’m excited
to do all the things i’ve been avoiding all week
somehow
i’m excited
for a little bit of normalcy again

[but not forever onward
just
just
just
the rest of this weekend]

November 4, 2023

it is kind of wild to me
that art in and of itself
is simply an invitation to
s t r e t c h
any truth we may want to share or inhabit

[any pureness for accuracy
may or may not be
entertaining/
good art anyway

so why not craft reality
to your individual
liking?]

November 2, 2023

should be excited
should be nervous
should be chittering and shaking and heart pounding and butterflies lining the walls of my stomach
but instead i’m numb
i’m accepting
i’m tired
i’m surviving

[what depression does]