i love when the words just flow just drip just pour
from my fingertips without squeezing
without pushing
without forcing
like they were always meant to be there
in that order
with that meaning
[can i have more
of that
please?]
Month: September 2026
September 9, 2026
such grand plans
such grand plans
we can do more
we can do more
but sometimes we need to do
what we have already done
and leave it at that
and leave it at that
September 8, 2026
do i get more out of my morning poetry
when it is less likely to be a poem
i’m willing to share with any sort of audience
[even that of the opinionless void]?
almost
certainly
yes
September 7, 2026
planned obsolescence
has me damn near paranoid
refusing to buy anything new
no technology
no clothing
no materials for making my own things
no cloth for fear of fraying
no printers for fear of subscription fees
no streaming services for fear of handing money to those
who would throw our country down the already flushing toilet of
fascism, and throw our planet farther away from able to
reverse this man-made curse of global climate crisis
can i survive on what i have?
or buying second-hand [hopefully from
reputable sources themselves]
mending and making with the items i’ve hoarded
over the last few decades of my life?
[perhaps my depression-raised grandmother was right]
September 6, 2026
300 words
is my writing goal
every morning
and i usually hit it
[no, not always, but usually]
and i usually feel settled
by that time
enough words to get the morning sleepies out
enough words to find a thing i’m fine with posting
enough words to feel warmed up
emotionally/intellectually/creatively
for the day
but these past few days
300 does not feel like enough
and there isn’t anything that says
300 is a limitation
it is literally a minimum
[and even then, these are all rules i set for myself
so if i can only do about three words
that turn into a short poem day,
that’s fine for me,
that’s fine
that’s fine]
but i find it incredibly interesting
that a few weeks ago
i ran into multiple days
i couldn’t even find the time to write
anything
and now, two-ish weeks later
i’m itching
for more
and more
and more writing time
and making it happen
[am i, after five and a half years of this silly, self-imposed writing challenge
becoming something like
a “real”
writer?]
September 5, 2026
writing exercises
that rely on memory
and childhood
always piss me off
the parts of my childhood that i only have
the foggiest of emotional memories of
were absolutely idyllic
the parts of my childhood
where i can actually picture
outfits and items and hear words and activities being done
those are at least shadowed if not fully enveloped in
approaching tragedy
and/or soon to be
trauma
don’t ask me to remember things
my brain has no clear memory of
and don’t ask me to partake in a “fun activity”
when everything i may bring up
may bring the room
down
[it is not a compulsion i’m working against —
it is simply the facts of my own
past]
September 4, 2026
learning new things
talking to new people
just because i
stepped out of my house yesterday
[and yes, i could have/should have
been doing many chores on my
forever growing to do list, but
hey, i fell a little more in love with
this city and its people and
nerds in general, and i love being
able to just go to a thing i know
almost nothing about and make
friends and learn so so so much]
[that’s what living in
nyc is all about, right?]
September 3, 2026
so many books to read
one might say
too many books to read
but i’d rather be surrounded by books i’ve read
and not yet read
and books i might someday read
but maybe not
than [almost] anything else
i just love
books
September 2, 2026
strange dreams about
abandoned houses connected to ours
about
strangers and mta drivers trying to make
a better plan for other folks in the area
about
kip trying to protect me from certain things
and then acting like me when faced with
other things
about
observing and assessing and waiting to make conclusions
about getting out of places quickly
and about
my father
just hanging out
all somehow connected
and completely disconnected
kind of like the two buildings being dreamed about
oh, and also about
nature
reclaiming
in beautiful ways
September 1, 2026
raise your hand if you’re a grand schemer
who grew up with parents who supported
and encouraged your ideas, and had plans
of their own that you saw never come to
pass because of some combination of time
and effort and sickness and death and now
even though you still have such lofty goals
you know deep inside you that you’ll never
ever ever achieve them because your whole
life is predicated on the fact that plans
never
actually go through and get done to the
endings as wanted and though you still
try to start things you are aware that the
learned patterns and subconscious trauma
makes it almost impossible for you to
see anything through at all ever in your life
or is that just me?
