split attention
books on audio
poetry on iPad
fevers and coughs and naps and care/on beds and floors and couches…
COVID finally this this house
(but only one human shows it)
split attention
books on audio
poetry on iPad
fevers and coughs and naps and care/on beds and floors and couches…
COVID finally this this house
(but only one human shows it)
the puppy
has lost
her ball
probably
under
the coffee
table
perhaps whining at us
and barking at it
will make its
return
hasten
(it worked
because
i’m
a pushover)
a break
a gap
for multiple days
but
i’m not worried
in the way
i have been
because i know
i’m here
and i have things to say
no matter
what
~~~
re-writing history
is the way i deal with
days i couldn’t deal with
the morning pages
or mid-afternoon meditation
or evening ponderings…
simply take the time machine
of your blogging schedule
and post
in the past
(it’s surprisingly
easy)
~~~
(any more to say?)
[anything else to think?]
{or is writing
still coming back
into focus
after a few
days?}
i secretly love
going back
and reading old poems
(even old poem-to-do-lists)
and seeing
who
and how
i was
back[not really that far]then
what good
comes from
writing
about writing?
writing
about poetry?
writing
about waiting
and wanting
to write
so well?
ok
let’s see
if i like this new compy
if this keyboard won’t be as hassle-y
if i can get on board creativity
and be
the person
i’ve always wanted to be
~~~
yes
you guessed it
new computer
new keyboard
less doubling of letters
less loss of vowels
less struggle to write
in a way
that others would be able
to see
and figure out
and comprehend
and all that jazz
(oh no
have i relied on that
hassle
to not feel
personally
imperfect???)
~~~
but with a new piece
of technology
comes the premise
of a promise
to keep it up to date
and cleaner
and less crumb-y
and less angry
and i (hopefully)
will fulfill this
better
than in the
(very recent)
past
we’ll see
we’ll see
i wonder
if my mother
would have been great
at getting my pronouns
right
would she have stood up for me
at family gatherings
corrected people
when i wasn’t near
would she have been
the ally
i needed
to come out
with a bang
instead of this subtle
exhausting
whispered
coming out
over
and over
and over
again
every time
a ‘she’ is uttered
or a ‘ladies’ is announced
or any of those microaggressions
my gender dysphoria
insists
are actual aggression
i don’t know
i wish i knew
but i really don’t
she was an ally of all queer folks she knew
(I know 100% she’d have been to my wedding
would have celebrated like the world was ending
when she knew mine was just beginning
because that’s just the way she was)
but gender is somehow harder
and the in-between confuses even the best
of allies
and i don’t want to put her up on a pedestal
nor do i want to underestimate her devotion
to a me she never got to see
i only knew her for eleven and three quarters years
and i have memories of less
she is both the person i was closest to
and the biggest mystery of my life
and i just wish
i could guess
what it would be like
to have her
stand up
for me
existentialism
is hitting me hard
today
and i can never get away
(do i ever even
try
to get away?)
Fauci Ouchie
Rounds One and Two
were
adventures
i didn’t really write
about Booster 1
(would that be Fauci Ouchie Round Three?)
because
i actually felt that one
(just extreme tiredness,
but still)
and
things started opening up
too early
just like i foresaw
and getting the boosters felt
like a civic duty
and the least i could do
and everything
and nothing
and knowing
people weren’t doing it
just felt
like too
much
but now
i’ve Booster-ed twice–
Four Rounds
of Fauci Ouchies–
and i expect to get exhausted
and i expect to feel all the feels
and getting this was a hassle and a half
but there’s no way
i wouldn’t do it
because it isn’t about me
it was never about me
this is about
those folks
who can’t
and those folks
who remain sheltering in place
as people and corporations and governments
alike
decide
any life
is an
“acceptable loss”
and normies decided
that going back to ‘normal’
is better
(and easier)
than what we could be doing–
finding
something
different
and better
for everyone
(as we endure
the global pandemic
that is
STILL
raging)
(and in case you haven’t caught on
from how i put it in the words before
this little parenthetical here,
this poem is about
disabled people,
immunocompromised people,
chronically and currently ill people,
and people who don’t fit our society’s
very limited
standards of
“normal”
who deserve
all the accessibility
that we can ever
give them)
i think
the reason
i enjoy organizing books
and tangible things
for fun
is the same reason
i can’t seem
to organize
my digital
life
physicality is separate
from me
from my mind
so i have some semblance
of control
over
it
virtual
online
digital
means to an end
end up emulating
what my brain is doing
so disorganization
is the only way i
survive
(i wish
there was another
way to
thrive)