Author: HJ

January 13, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

am i digging
writing
this morning

pressure
from me
to me
keeps playing

at least i have
a coffee nearby
and a bagel
soon to be in my belly
and a dog and a spouse and a cat in this house
all by my side
(emotionally at least)

don’t get caught up in the minutia
the tiny details
the what if these have all been said before
the before of writing
when you haven’t even put pen to paper
or finger to keyboard
when you worry what you have to say
isn’t good enough
or big enough
or beautiful enough
or you aren’t any of these things either
just write

January 12, 2023

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if i write
what i always needed
as a child
what might that be?

because i was pretty satisfied
when i was that age
of the grand adventures
and imaginative natures
of many of the stories
with heroes who looked
a lot like
me

but what i need now
is to have noticed i needed then
a mix between girl and boy/
that any harsh division
is unnecessary/
and that i don’t/didn’t need to carry
the weight of an entire gender
on my young shoulders.

should i write
a protagonist
who thinks that?

or would they simply come off
as
your early 2000’s Mary Sue
(and since when has that stopped
any aging white boy
from doing
pretty much
exactly that?)

January 10, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

capitalism
ruining even the most productive
of mornings

~~~

frustrated
distracted
hungry
but not yet ready

what a morning

~~~

banal tasks
take
less mental energy
but
when a sudden need
for that focus arrives
it’s quite jarring

January 9, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i am far away from my native lands
both in space
and in time

but i am native to the Earth
and i do have a land that raised me
that moulded me
as i trudged and trotted along
creeks
and fields
and farms
and forests
paying little to no attention
to human intervention
but instead lost in my own imagination
speaking for two, three, five, ten at a time
plays and stories and series in my mind
and the dirt never betrayed me
and the insects never bit more than i could handle
and the animals provided distraction
when i hit an imaginary interpersonal problem
and everything i saw/heard/touched/tasted/smelled
informed my curiosity
and invited me back
day
after
week
after
month
after
season
after
year

i wish i could go back today
but i don’t know how it’s changed
and i’m scared of feeling betrayed
by my own damn species
(or having it seem exactly the same,
and overwhelmed by how much
i’ve changed)

but

i’ve taken on this land
as my new home
and learning as i am
about kinship and the land and more-than-human persons
i’d like to care for this portion of the Earth
as the Earth
once cared
for me

January 7, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the whole concept of writing
right now
feels egregious
to me

to sit in solemn silence
and ponder grand plans
tiny details
and all between
and simply translate them
to characters in words upon a screen

i don’t know why i
can go from sixty to zero
from brain chattering every day
so much to do, so much more to say
all the previous yesterdays
and then today
be struck
stuck
stagnant
and frustrated
by the whole concept of language

such is the life
and times
and minds
of writers?

January 5, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

it’s only hitting me now

we are in a brand new year

the possibilities only end with your
[and society’s]
imagination(s)

and even then

some folks push the boundaries
of societal borderings
think outside the box
and only become trapped when they exhaust
every [im]possible way out
and still
try

i’d like to be that kind of
creative