waking up from a wild dream
with ideas for a story
but honestly, once fully awake,
there are far more questions about this concept
than an initial start to writing
but i suppose i’ll just have to see
what it may become
eventually
by writing it
what actually was the noise
that connected us to the internet
in the early/mid nineties?
was it the future screaming at us
to maybe think better of it?
was it our computers
being used for something they hadn’t thought
they’d be used for
and that stretch and strain on the inner workings
just needed to exhale a little
in a digital-type-sound?
or was it simply a pre-made set of
futuristic sounds
composed for our
soon-to-be
post-apocalyptic
future?
[i suppose i could ask kip
and they may know…]
[but i don’t think i’m going to ask right now…
maybe in a few minutes — i’m still trying to think of
other possibilities it could have meant]
needy puppies
need treats and attention
and consoling when in pain
and constant playing when not
and i wouldn’t have it any other way
as fall approaches
but isn’t quite here
not yet
not yet
the memories of late summers past
invades my mind
sans consent
[do flashbacks ever ask?]
and no matter how stable
and lovely
and mine
my life is today
i keep seeing
loss
upon loss
upon lost trust
upon that feeling of any control in life
fleeting though it may have been
stolen in an instant
and this current administration
certainly doesn’t help this
weird ptsd i’ve found myself in
everything seems to be
culminating in something
and i continue to avoid all emotions and memories
until absolutely
necessary
this poor poor puppy
from the street
to a home where
she tore both acl’s
needed surgeries
got nausea and scabs
and bumps all over
[not to mention at least one leg broken]
and finally, when she wasn’t the one giving us
veterinary grief
the cat goes and develops
hyperthyroidism
and irritable bowel disease
and then
as the cat calms down
from all her puking and med-strategizing
the puppy, once again, has a sore on her paw
which she licks and licks
and ends up in a cone
with antibiotics
and steroids
and somehow swollen ears
and we think we get all that under control
and here come the obsessive paw-licks again
i’m sorry, Computer, but you’re going to need to be
in a cone once more,
at least while we’re gone for the day
poor poor poor poor puppy.
i keep forgetting to water my poor orchid
i mean, i always remember the next day
but it is nice to take care of all the plants together
it feels like they’re all family that way.
i always think i’m
“meh” about our figs —
like,
it’s nice to have a fresh off the tree
fruit
in your mouth,
but i’d prefer
a strawberry
or pomegranate
or lychee
but then i take a bite into a fig itself
and even the ones from yesterday
which were, apparently, “not that great”
i still find myself closing my eyes
in order to savor the taste fully,
involuntarily saying “mmm”
as it melts in my mouth,
and crunching down on every single seed in my mouth
with delight
i might not have found figs this delicious
without a tree full of fresh ones in our backyard
but i’m so glad it all turned out this way
am i just
a little sci fi enby
who spent way too much of their life
trying so hard not to be
a little sci fi enby?
do i have writer’s block
or does writer’s block have me
in a chokehold
from which i’ll never be released
do i have writer’s block
or is writer’s block my best frenemy
stalking me
fighting
and making up
and i keep them around for…
…for what?
do i have writer’s block
or is my whole life a lie
based on wanting to write
but never knowing how or when or why
or even if i really should
so i just
rush back
into writer’s block’s arms
do i have writer’s block
or are these excuses
to keep me from writing out
my whole soul?
i think my lot in life
is to fight fascism with
art
humanity
and softness
i don’t know how much of an impact i can make
but i can make you think about the fact that i don’t consider
fascists
humans
and perhaps that’s enough to get our brains working on critical thinking once more
kipventures 