April 14, 2021

if i’m going to be completely honest with myself
(and yes, that’s a worthy, but lofty goal,)
i’d say i’m frightened of what’s in my head.

and yet, i’m so curious.

and if i’m going to be completely honest with myself,
the second day is when the goal succeeds or fails
(or maybe it’s the third day
or the fourth
or the fifth
or…)

what i’m trying to say is that i
had such a good idea of what to poem about
yesterday
but today the well feels dry
[did i use it all up yesterday?
did i use it all up in the whole concept of this plan?
should i even be writing these poems with the word
“i”?]

the concept is a whole collections of contemplations
one for each day of each week of each month of this one
year.

perhaps it’ll help me write better
perhaps it’ll show me fortitude and consistency
perhaps i’ll give up after a while
(but i’ll still learn some important lessons along the way)
but what i want to know is:
when will i get to the good stuff,
the tough internal workings,
the contemplations on life and death and the liminal space in-between,
the inter-personal inner-workings of being,
instead of just writing about my plan to write?

April 13, 2021

the beginning of any project
is[can be]overwhelming.

if you have an idea for how the whole is supposed to look
and yet your mind focuses in on the tiniest of details
it can seem
damn near
overwhelming

but perhaps those AA folk are right
and day by day
(or bit by bit)
is truly the most mindful way to approach everything/life.

so is today the first day
of an ‘every day poem’ adventure?
will it last a whole year,
my mind becoming sharper
my words more focused
with each passing day?

or is that the over-thinking doing the talking
the one that sees the minor details as they make up the whole
the brain that gets overwhelmed because of all the ‘what ifs’
and
‘could bes’
and
‘why nots’?

and really, what i could be should be thinking is
i am writing a poem
today
and intend to write another
tomorrow.

and that is all that needs to be said
(or thought)

April 11, 2021

would i actually want to make a
poem a day
(it seems like a crazy concept,
an exhausting one at that,)
but one that perhaps i could achieve.
i did it while traveling
why not when i have great multitudes of time?
when i’m already writing every single morning?
(the question now is when to start?
do i need a specific start day?
do i want it to hold some meaningful meaning within it?
or can it just be like any other day?)

April 9, 2021

so far, not feeling anything
[re: the ill effects of the vaccination,
except for a small soreness in my upper left shoulder meat]
so the things i vowed to do yesterday
in order to prevent them from adding to my plate today
i can actually get done today.
and yet, adding to the pile of things
that i want to do
but have yet to get done,
still
this is a pretty nice feeling:
the concept of being awake
and ready to take on a day
and do the things that need to be done
instead of avoiding them
or fearing them.
[and i know this may not last.
there are many traps i could still fall in to
and so many things on my plate,
things that i *should* do today…
but still
as of right now
everything feels
kind of…
aligned.]

April 8, 2021

Round One
Fauci Ouchie
i wake up coughing, not because i’m sick, but because the air in this house is dry af.
so on the humidifier goes, away it sends my cough, i’m back on track, to get my
Fauci Ouchie
Round One.

i have chores to do today,
as well as assignments from
job
and
class
and any other day i’d divide them up over the whole day,
maybe nap a bit before getting started,
but today
i know there is a
(small but substantial)
possibility that i may be
down for the count
because of my
Fauci Ouchie
Round One

(based entirely on averages
i am likely to not react
at all,
but based on familial anecdotes
that prospect rises
significantly.
i only have one close relative to draw from,
and he reacted very poorly,
so i’m taking that into account;
i see myself as having
basically
a fifty/fifty chance
of having no reaction vs. an incredibly poor one
and i’m trying to plan my day accordingly
around the possible aftereffects
of my
Fauci Ouchie
Round One.)

so there are chores,
things with substantial physical effort
and i’m planning those for the morning
and then
post
Fauci Ouchie
Round One
i have the simpler
less tasking
tasks:
the monologue recording,
the voiceover acting,
the ones that i can do sitting down
in my silly little closet-studio.
but also
i’ve taken the time to
plan for a bit of those pre-
Fauci Ouchie
Round One
just in case i’m so dead to the world
that i just need to sleep.
(hilariously enough
this is why i’m planning on not napping pre-
Fauci Ouchie
Round One
because i would feel silly if i took two naps in one day)

so let’s juts keep the adrenaline up,
the excitement
the prospect
of my getting my
Round One
Fauci Ouchie
out of the way
and go out into the world
(when i can)
and make it be
like
any other
time.

April 4, 2021

my first words i set down
are always the most raw
the most me
the subsequent editing
and overthinking
and deleting
and more
and explaining
and rewriting ten times
that’s where it becomes no longer me
and instead
turns into
a parody of myself
a caricature of the person i think i am
(or at least think i could be)
all the potential falls at my feet
and any genuineness is forgotten
deleted
whisked away by
the persona of hj
when all i’d really like that persona to be
is the real hj
(but the overthinking and editing comes at that cost
and if i know i’m making mistakes
sharing too much or not enough
within the first draft
how do i make the edits more like me
instad of less)
(or is any written thought
always
going to be farther away from me?)

February 5, 2021

running out to the sidewalk
big chunks of snow falling
pockmarking the small white hills,
the yellow of a taxi cab
shining
in the not-quite-twilight of
5:45 pm
on a february friday,
the haze of pink-ish-purple
lighting the sky
in that way that
only an NYC dusk truly can,
my eyes adjusting to clearer vision,
happy
(for once)
to exist.

December 4, 2020

people say that scent
is the strongest sense-memory

but…

…damn

that first chord plays in my ears
from the first song on the Spring Awakening soundtrack
and i’m suddenly 17
trying to find a burger king nearby
(without a smartphone)
so my friends and i can gobble up
fast food veggie burgers
before/while driving
to what we nick-named
“nuclear reactor beach”

or

the first three blasts on the trumpet
on the Star Trek Voyager theme song
and i can feel the early autumn 4 o’clock sun on my face
from our west-facing windows
nestling in for some post-school entertainment
at ages 5, 6, 7, 8…

or

the entire album of Todd Rundgren’s
A Wizard, a True Star
makes me want to clean the whole house
on a Saturday morning

or

any Death Cab for Cutie
song
and i’m driving
late night
to and from Oberlin
keeping up a high school romance
vaguely long distance
independent
thinly masked sadness
and yet infinite possibilities

November 17, 2020

i had a dream last night
that i was at a theme park
all roller coasters and arcade games
and fried food and good friends
and yet, in the air, there was the stench of stress
of disease
and i realized
that i shouldn’t be there.

i was there with a friend
i haven’t seen in ages
and we were enjoying our time
(it seemed the park had just opened up
and we were some of the first to ride its rides
again
after shut-down)
but the shut-down wasn’t done yet,
they just decided to open
they said they had precautions in place
but all i saw was slightly less people
and no way of stemming that flow
once the gates were truly open
(indeed, it wasn’t really much less than on a rainy summer day.)

and though my friend and i enjoyed our time
and i said hi to her family
and we replayed our crazy youth
(of rehearsals and post-show chi-chi’s gatherings
getting ‘drunk’ on sprite
and ‘high’ on pixy stix)
there was still a reminder
in the back of my head
“we are in a pandemic
we should still be in lock-down
what are you doing?
what are you doing?

what are you doing???”

but i couldn’t seem to leave.

maybe it was the social obligation;
i had arrived here with my friend
(i think we’d driven together)
i couldn’t just abandon her.
or maybe it was a selfish decision;
i hadn’t had this much fun
in over 8 months,
i hadn’t even been to a theme park
in years
i’d get cravings
(though i’ve never craved the crowds)
and there was still one more ride i wanted to ride
one more game i wanted to try
one more food i wanted to partake in
(plust the park wasn’t closing for hours and hours)

so my insides struggled
with the guilt of knowing i shouldn’t be there
and the knowledge that i could just leave
but the compulsivity to stay.

would i have not entered the park, had my dream started earlier?
given me an out of not feeling like i’d ‘already gotten this far’?
or would i have convinced myself there was some reason
saying ‘we’d already driven this far’
or ‘well they invited me’
or ‘i mean, the pandemic is lessening, right?’

but it’s not, it’s getting worse and worse, but half of the united states decided they were
‘bored of the pandemic’
‘bored of the lockdown’
‘bored of taking precautions for themselves and[especially] for others’

and i want to be bored of it all
but frankly, i enjoy the solitude

however

i miss my friends and my family
i miss having a place to go to every day
i miss exploring
i miss feeling like i could spend hours in one public place
i miss classes and hugs and working towards feeling strong
i miss feeling like i could one day make this city my own.

but mostly, i miss the souls i never met.
what if that first statistic was meant to be my new best friend
what if that person who had an ongoing condition
won’t be able to dance again
because their breath was taken away
by a disease traveling the globe
and they won’t go back to a class ever again
because they feel too embarrassed by their loss.
what if there was a chance encounter
a silly thing
mixed-up drinks at a coffee shop
or a jovial ‘yes and’ at a subway platform
just the little things that you hold in your heart
and maybe tell your spouse at the end of the day
that make the city feel like the most welcoming place
in the world
and now we can’t
because people think that roller coasters
and their own enjoyment
are more important
than other people’s
lives.

please stay inside.

November 7, 2020

7pm
every weekday
New Yorkers
cheer
through open windows
banging pots and pans
screaming our thanks
outwards
upwards
towards the front line workers
[trying to] control this pandemic
helping people
keeping folks
alive

[it felt like our only way to actively
give thanks
and feel relatively
in control]

November 7, 2020
11:27am
cheers echo in our neighborhood
as my spouse refreshes their page
“yep, the New York Times just called it”

and here we are again
regaining some control
screaming our relief
through open windows
outwards
upwards
towards whatever higher deities
[or Pennsylvanians]
we believe in
giving thanks for knowing
we should have a leader
who can be held accountable.

[now let’s hold him
accountable.]