i suppose i could/should write a poem
about this past pride month
and all its craziness
and what it’s meant to me…
but i think i need to absorb it
and put it to bed
[or at least let it nap]
before either of us are ready
to assess how i feel
about how this hectic
time of rainbows and shows
and running around and barely breathing
and nervousness and new experiences
and wholesome friendships
went
so…
one of these days
when it’s no longer june
i’ll write about it
wounds
from circus
are worse than bruises
because they are usually burns
and they continue to make me squirm
in showers to clean them
and days afterwards
if they need band-aids
and then, finally, when they’ve stopped looking like
peeled flesh
and grossness,
and the healing process has set well in
the itch
is all-consuming
and unimaginably annoying
and because i usually never get them this bad
i can forget this stage
but right now
this healing thing on my ankle
is all my conscious can think about
and how much i want to scratch my whole skin off
but then the process would just start
all over again…
calming massages
and meditations
and stretching in mornings
[or evenings]
and taking deep breaths
and being thankful
and all the things i know would help
but i either forget about
or never have the time
or, more often than not, i feel like i’m undeserving
of the care and its after effects
and i just wish i could somehow convince my full self
i’m allowed some kind of
self-care
[and maybe even remind myself
that it’s imperative
to take down settler colonialism
and capitalism
and the white supremacist patriarchy]
mutual aid
mutual companionship
community
and us keeping us safe
i can listen and adopt and absorb these ideals,
but being raised in middle class white america
means my default is to
the individualistic/
pull oneself up by their bootstraps/
bullshit this country forcefeeds us
even when i don’t want to believe
[brainwashing is a powerful thing]
my whole concept of
the day of the week
is gone
is it wednesday?
is it a weekend?
have days ceased to be
and now we’re living off of
vibes alone?
someone help me
be a person
again
i just want to hide in the middle of the woods
and make physical art somehow
[really don’t know how, could be painting
could be fiber-art-ing
could be making tiny houses
for my fairy kin to live in]
and forget that the rest of the world exists
but i don’t think i ever could forget
truly
i don’t think i ever could
we have a spider plant
transferred from my father’s domicile in ohio
all the way out to the bronx
and we watered it
and replanted it
and it made two sweet little spider plant babies
i planted one
[still have to cut off the cellulose umbilical tho,]
but the other came in later
and has stayed attached and ready
for just under a year now
and i was contemplating making the effort to
root it
pot it
plant it,
but
we have a bowl of water just under it
[for humidifying purposes]
and it seems some of its tendrils have found it
and now i want to see
if it will slowly make its way over
to that bowl
to soak up the h2o
and grow
new roots
and try to make that
its home
here i was about to do the good thing
the right thing
the thing i’ve been meaning to do
for months and months
and then an experiment falls into my lap
[young me would never believe
how hard i’d fall
for science]
summer is for hot hot sun
and sticky nights
too much sunscreen making not much difference
in the plight of red faces and needing shady spaces
and ice cream melting all over your hands
and lazy moments where the clock seems to stand
exactly still for longer than a second
a minute
an hour
and looking out over some green or body of water
can remind you of a moment of your childhood
or make memories of cartwheels and babies
in a town you’ve never visited
and may never come back to again
but that’s june for you,
that’s what summer is meant to do.
and now i’m outside again
in the sweaty hot humidity of the noonday sun
summer has surely come
and i’m not feeling it in any way
except the heat
how do morning pages feel so much better
with my kip sitting across from me
and a cup of cold coffee in my hand
and a cat perched upon my lap
and a puppy underneath my chair
and everything as it is meant to be?
when did i start liking
consistency?
kipventures 