i know why
rip van winkle
is more of a horror story
than anything else
i get it
i do
but
sometimes i daydream of taking a nap
that lasts one hundred years
[give or take]
and that is when i finally
almost
barely
kind of
feel
any sort of
well-rested
vibe
why is writing this morning
like pulling teeth?
didn’t i go to bed early enough?
didn’t i get enough sleep?
didn’t i wake up relatively awake
and go on a walk to get the blood rushig up
from my feet
to head and hands and otherwise?
why why why is this such a struggle today?
why does emailing feel like an imposition
when others still call without first texting
or even text and expect an immediate response?
am i just
too careful
for my own
kind?
taking time from poetry
to pat the cat on my lap
or encourage the puppy to play with her ball
or say random sentences to kip about
the randomness in my brain
[what i usually use this poetry outlet to express or explain]
which all makes for great connections
but not necessarily good morning writings
i should really turn my computer
off
at some point,
let all the tabs i have up
rest
for an evening
or even overnight
and give the inner workings
of this overworked and overpriced
silver slip of a laptop
a moment of chill time
before turning it on again
and leaving it on
for another few
years
the cat, on her perch, on her throne of my lap
leers over the puppy, resting innocently on the ground
unperturbed by the feline creeping closer,
as she jumps to the ground, and the puppy
stays still as a statue, only her nose going,
the cat passes, and the puppy wishes
so hard that they could play
at least for a moment
at least for a day
at least for a lifetime
the puppy prays,
but the cat is only interested
in food and hassles
and annoying all other animals
in this house.
the puppy has no recourse, no resource to break into the cat’s heart
so she waits, calmly, for the next opportunity to start
it all over again.
am i
enjoying
my work?
can i
be mad at
capitalism, even whilst i
enjoy my
work?
the questions of the ages of this late stage implosion
actually listened to music
on purpose
with focus
yesterday
what does that make me
today?
organizing, hoping, working, planning
i’m waffling between excitement and dread
but the dread is the minutiae, the details, the prep
the excitement is the visit, the fun, the experiences
and how much time will i end up spending at Umami?
shall i write in silence
or to the music of the a/c unit
as it strains its last legs
against this most recent heat wave
[will these legs last the next heat wave?
the rest of the summer?
into next year?
forever?]
kipventures 